


tender (is the night)

by kittpurrson



Series: someone who can heal my mind [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Intimacy, M/M, Mirror Sex, Miscommunication, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Soul Bond, Telepathic Bond, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-01-20 05:51:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12426324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittpurrson/pseuds/kittpurrson
Summary: His whole body aches, like he’s regrown his limbs overnight, stretched out muscles he never knew he had.Isak knows, in that moment, that his life has just been turned upside down.“You bonded,” Even’s girlfriend confirms, and the pity in her eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. “Try not to move.”--The one where Isak and Even accidentally soulbond.





	1. Hjernen er ikke alene

**Author's Note:**

> So, the idea for this came to me on a whim, and I promptly sort of dropped everything else and wrote this chapter. Fml.
> 
> Title from the Blur song (thanks, Fitzgerald).
> 
> All the love to colazitron, imminentinertia, nofeartina, and champagneleftie, for your constant love and encouragement. I'm not sure I'd still be in this fandom without you, so this one's for you!

Isak meets Even Bech Næsheim on New Year’s Eve when he is seventeen and a half years old.

He doesn’t mean to; but isn’t that how these stories usually start?

When Jonas drags him to a Bakka party yet again — “for Magnus, bro, he’s still embarrassed he struck out with Vilde” — Isak doesn’t complain, because he knows it’s useless. If anything, at least, the anonymity of it means that he can avoid Emma. They haven’t spoken since the Christmas Kosegruppa party, when Isak finally ran out of excuses to take her to bed, and proceeded to embarrass them both because he couldn’t even stay hard long enough to fuck her. He’d claimed it was the condom (or the vodka), but the damage had been done.

He can’t really look her in the eye anymore.

So he goes along to this Bakka party to ring in 2017, and he doesn’t wear any gloves, but he keeps his hands to himself every time a guy brushes past him, his own casually shoved into his pockets.

The party is no different to any other Isak has been to. No warning that Isak’s world is about to tip on its axis. Isak sips at his beer and listens to Magnus strike out over and over, while Mahdi and Jonas mingle, their bare hands brazen in the sea of long sleeves and covers.

Isak just watches, and wishes he were anywhere else.

Across the room, Jonas looks for all the world like he has nothing to worry about. He’s good at this stuff: the picking up girls and the smoking weed, and not worrying about what anybody else thinks. Perhaps it helps that he can touch whoever he likes, in theory, and not think about what could happen.

Jonas has a bond.

Even if he and Eva aren’t together right now — “the bond can’t fix everything,” he said, when Isak asked — he has one, and he’ll never have another. He can touch whoever he likes, without it being a big drama. Or so he says.

Privately, Isak thinks it’s a bigger deal than Jonas lets on. Not being with Eva, even though they’re irreversibly tied together. They have the rest of their lives to figure it out, Isak supposes, but he doesn’t understand how Jonas can want to touch anybody else, or be okay with the fact that Eva does. Not when he can feel everything she does, feel it every time Chris puts his hands on her, feel the rise and crest of her cries when someone else fucks her. Isak knows that Jonas rarely shuts her out, even when it would hurt less to do so.

Some days Jonas smokes too much, and Isak wonders if he’s doing it on purpose.

Sometimes Isak wonders why the universe gave Jonas a bond, if he’s so willing to let it wither away.

Isak would never admit it out loud, but sometimes he dreams about it. Someone else in his head when he feels completely alone; someone else’s heartbeat to steady his own. A connection to somebody that is real and strong and unbreakable—someone to be more than family, who can never really leave.

He just doesn’t believe he’ll ever have it.

Not everyone gets a bond, of course. More than half the population, even, never know what it’s like. But Isak, in particular—with his proclivities, he thinks, the odds seem stacked against him.   
  
Still, around boys, Isak keeps his hands to himself.

Everyone knows that you’re not supposed to touch people you’re not ready to be bonded to. Isak can’t remember a time it wasn’t instilled into him, like instinct. Bonds rarely happen with kids—and even when it does people consider that kind of cute—but once you’re a teenager, though—it’s everywhere. The mixed messages from parents, the lectures at school, the way every stranger turns into a potential ever-after. There’s the hesitance to touch, and the desire too, warring with what your parents tell you and what curiosity says.

People touch anyway, because touch is touch and people are hungry for it. These days, that’s considered normal enough.

Isak has touched girls, and he has kissed those girls, but even before he does so he knows he’s not their soulmate. He only touches girls, and lets everyone think that means he’s bold, wants them enough to take a risk.

He’s the only person who knows he’s risking nothing. If Isak bonds, he already knows it won’t be a girl.

­­­

So he drinks the shit beer Eskild buys him, and smokes Jonas’s weed, and presses his body as close as he can to whichever girl seems the most charmed, because that’s what he’s supposed to do, and it’s the closest thing he’ll have to closeness. People just about accept boys who like boys when there’s a bond involved, but to come out without one? Isak knows it’s a thing people do, but it’s braver than he knows how to be, right now. 

He’s never met anyone who made him think it would be worth it.

—

In the dying hours of the year, sitting slumped on a sofa between Magnus and Mahdi, the last thing Isak is expecting is to meet anyone. But the room clears a little as midnight closes in, people wandering out to the roof with sparklers and sparkling wine, and Isak looks across and locks eyes, just for a moment, with the most beautiful boy he has ever seen.

But then the Boy opens his mouth, and the spell is broken. 

“I think, you know, even if I had a soulmate, I wouldn’t want to meet them,” the Boy says, and he must be talking loudly, drunk or something, because Isak can hear him even across the room. “I want to choose someone for myself. I think that’s the romantic part.” 

“Stop him before he goes on about Romeo and Juliet again,” the Boy’s friend scoffs. Isak’s eyes track the movement as a blonde girl at his side rolls her eyes, sloppily kisses the Boy on the cheek. 

“Even is a romantic,” she says. “Nothing wrong with wanting to choose for yourself.”

“He just thinks romance should end in tragedy” the friend says, and Even grins big, the brightest thing Isak has ever seen, but Even doesn’t deny it.

Even. Even. Even.

Isak repeats the name over and over in his head, feeling foolish even as he does so—he just can’t help himself. Isak watches as Even turns his head to capture the girl’s lips in a kiss, fisting his hand in her short hair. Even’s tongue slips into her mouth, and their friends groan, turning away, but Isak can’t. 

 _He’s not for you_ , the little voice in Isak’s head tells him, and then Even’s eyes flicker open, landing on Isak’s again, even as his mouth moves.

Isak leaves the room, and inside his pockets, his hands curl into fists.

—

There’s a girl at the party who won’t stop looking at Isak—dark-haired, tiny, eyes rimmed in thick makeup—and Magnus won’t stop talking about her until Isak finally agrees to go over. He finishes his beer in one long chug and makes his way to her, placing a careful hand on her wool-clad elbow just to watch her shiver.

Girls like this, Isak has learned. Touching like this, over their clothes, how it feels so close to what’s forbidden. But the girl isn’t wearing gloves either, so she’s either looking to bond or bold enough not to care, and that’s trickier. He has to play the part: flirt a little, his hand slipping down until it nears the exposed skin of her wrist.

When their hands finally touch, she gasps, but her gaze turns wicked when skin touches skin without incident.

“Shall we go somewhere quiet?” She asks, and Isak looks over her shoulder to see Even watching, his bright eyes unnervingly amused. She steps in close, trailing a slow hand down his belly, and Isak doesn’t miss the way her gaze flickers down to his mouth.

Isak feels uneasy.

“I have to—” Isak says, backing away, and her face falls but Isak tries not to notice. “Bathroom,” he blurts, and without looking at Even, he pushes down the hallway, hands in pockets, and barricades himself inside.

When he locks the door, everything seems quieter, even the noise inside his head. Isak splashes cold water on his face, and lets his head thump against the mirror, feeling the cool glass against his cheek for a while 

His mind whirs, reels, buzzes. Isak hates this part of drinking.

Pulling back, Isak frowns as he stares at his reflection. 

The person that stares back is unfortunately familiar: drunk Isak, pupils huge, face clouded by self-loathing and fear. He doesn’t want to touch this girl again, but he doesn’t know what to do. Pretend to get ill, he supposes. Leave the party, and hope that he can excuse himself in the morning.

He hasn’t decided what to do, but when he finally opens the door, the decision is made for him. On the other side, a blur of blonde hair and grey hoodie stumbles forwards, hand raised as if to knock.

As he falls, Isak unthinking lifts his hands to push him back.

And then Isak’s hand locks around his wrist, and everything goes black.

—

When Isak opens his eyes, everything is too bright. Too much. He’s lying on the bathroom floor, and there’s yelling all around him. Mahdi and Magnus hover nervously beside him, just out of reach.

“Jonas!” Mahdi shouts, fighting to be heard over the crowd. The music isn’t playing anymore, Isak realizes, but everything feels far too loud. “Get in here, buddy!”

 Isak tries to ask what happened, but his head hurts too much to think.

Magnus reaches out to touch him, but Mahdi yanks him back, just as the burning brand of his fingertips scorch Isak’s arm. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he’s aware of the way his heart is racing, the waves of panic warring with confusion and—fuck. He leans into the body at his side, breathing heavily through his nose, and wills himself not to throw up. It helps, somehow, to press his nose into the skin of Even’s neck (beautiful Even!), to surround himself in him, and Isak can’t even think straight enough to wonder why...

Except, then, Even stirs, and recoils back in horror.

The second their bodies separate, Isak’s stomach rolls again, and he groans, low and unhappy.

“What the fuck?” Even asks, and Isak fills with dread as he starts to understand what must be happening. His whole body aches, like he’s regrown his limbs overnight, stretched out muscles he never knew he had.

Isak knows, in that moment, that his life has just been turned upside down.

“You bonded,” Even’s girlfriend confirms, and the pity in her eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. “Try not to move.”

“Fuck,” Even says again, and Isak feels it down to his toes, how Even is so viscerally shaken by the news.   
  
Isak pulls himself up, until he’s sitting in an upright position, his back against the wall of the room. Next to him, Even shifts instinctively, until the bare skin of his forearm glances against Isak’s wrist. 

He curses under his breath, and Isak tries to get himself under control. It’s too much.

Jonas arrives seconds later, clothes rumpled and eyes wide. A girl follows behind him, lipstick smeared comically around her mouth. Any other time, the sight might be funny, but Isak is too busy trying to breathe to laugh. Is this how Even feels, or is it him? Isak can’t tell, can’t separate them right now, but he feels on the razor’s edge of panic. It isn’t supposed to feel like this, he thinks distantly. It’s supposed to be the best moment of his life.

Instead, it feels like his life is over—and fuck, that’s surely not his own thought. His stomach rolls, and Isak inhales sharply, silently counts to ten.

“Issy,” Jonas says, and Isak shakes his head, miserable.

“Gonna be sick.”

From the way Even groans beside him, he thinks he may not be the only one. Isak sees the little circle around them expand a little at that. Mahdi disappears completely, exchanging a worried look with Magnus. His gloves are on now, Isak notices. How fucking typical.

“We need to get you home,” Jonas says, paying no mind to Isak’s inner turmoil. His gaze fixes on Even, appraising and wary all at once. “Both of you.”

Madhi returns just in time for Isak to throw up into the toilet bowl, Even following suit into Mahdi’s offered bucket.

Happy fucking new year.

— 

He barely remembers being bundled into a car, Jonas’s worried face pressed against the glass of the window. He doesn’t remember giving his address; only that Eskild opens the door and Isak and Even stumble into Isak’s room, facediving into the covers.

For the next twelve hours, Isak sleeps, but his dreams are not his own. When he wakes up, it’s to the feeling of another person beside him, physically and otherwise.

He can’t even explain it. It’s like some tiny piece of soul found a gap in Isak’s, and now presses against his own, catlike, touching him all over as it maps the shape of him. Isak has no idea what kind of dreams Even is having now, but he thinks they must be good ones.

This is real. The thought comes to Isak, sudden and unbidden, and for a moment he can’t help the glimmer of excitement that builds in him.

“Wow,” Isak says out loud, looking over the boy next to him.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Hi,” Even says when he wakes, and Isak swallows hard before he says it back, because the moment feels heavy. He’s not sure what the etiquette is, for his first day with his bondmate.

“Do you have food?” Even says next, and that’s as good an answer as any.

In the kitchen, Even makes eggs with sour cream, and Isak gets flashes of calm from him as he stirs them in the pan. He feels the shiver of cold as Even steps out of the shower—some of the worst minutes of his life, letting go of Even long enough to turn away and not look, while his stomach rolls and he feels the phantom touches of Even soaping himself up.

He starts to think, by mid-morning, that despite what Even said at the party, everything is going to be okay. They haven’t talked at all, though—mostly because they don’t need to, Isak thinks. Between the hangovers and the emotional whiplash, Isak is too exhausted to say much at all, and Even feels the same. They can’t bear to be apart, but Isak feels to awkward to acknowledge it, so they sit there, instead, Evens’ feet under Isak’s legs on the sofa.

They stare at the television screen, watching some minute by minute footage of the Oslo to Bergen train until Isak starts to feel queasy. He looks at his phone instead, but that doesn’t help much—all he has are messages from the boys, and he’s not sure he’s ready to answer them.

 **Mahdi  
** How are you today bro?

 **Jonas Noah**  
Are you feeling ?  
Let me know if you want me to bring you anything

 **Magnus  
** OMG I JUST WOKE UP AND REMEMBERED

 **Mahdi  
** Wait for it

 **Magnus  
** YOU BONDED TO THAT HOTTIE

Isak takes a deep breath before replying, trying not to look at Even as he does so.

 **Isak  
** All good boys talk soon

  
He isn’t, but he doesn’t know what else to say. None of them have mentioned that Even is decidedly male. None of them have mentioned that only an hour before they bonded, Even was loudly denouncing soulbonds to the entire room.

At his side, Even makes an uncomfortable noise, and Isak turns to look at him. 

“I hate this show,” Even says, and Isak feels the flash of frustration coming off of him. It’s big—too big to be about the dumb TV show, but Isak isn’t sure what it is.

He didn’t know bonding would be this confusing.

He always thought that when you bonded, that was it. You had somebody who understood you at the most fundamental level. Maybe it’s because it’s so new, but this bond feels precariously fraught. 

“Okay,” Isak says, but Even shakes his head.

Any positivity Isak had been feeling about the bond evaporates. It’s like the floodgates open, as he looks into Even’s eyes.

“Before you ask, I don’t want to talk.”

“I wasn’t going—”

“Yes you were,” Even says, then gestures towards his head, eyes narrowed. Like Isak is a liar.

“What, like you can read my mind?” Isak asks, narrowing his eyes. His gut churns, for a moment, and he feels something uncomfortable settle under his skin, pernicious.

Who the hell does this guy think he is? How dare he imply that Isak is lying like he knows _anything_ about who Isak is, or—

Wait, why is he so angry?

Belatedly, Isak realises that the feeling isn’t his own.

He slows his breathing, tries to focus on his own self—he dredges up the cool mask of indifference he usually puts on for girls at parties, and that seems to help. Like he’s safe from the fire of Even’s thoughts.

Even exhales, slowly.

“I can hear you already,” Even admits. “Little bits, here and there.”

And—fuck. This is moving fast.

“Okay,” Isak says, slowly. “I can’t hear you yet.”

Even nods, and rubs absently at his arm. As Isak watches, he feels the ghost of it prickle against his own skin, and Even stiffens.

“You can feel that?” He asks, and Isak nods.

“Here and there,” he echoes, and Even squeezes his eyes shut.

The panic that wells up in him is scary, Isak thinks. The crest of it that Even is riding—it threatens to pull Isak under for a moment, and he can’t help it. He closes his eyes too, and there it is, Even’s presence within him beckoning. He follows the thread of it, like a trail of breadcrumbs through a garden of thorns, until the feelings surround him—Even’s fear, and his anger, and then deeper, something that feels like longing, then guilt, then—

 _I can’t do this,_ Even says, and Isak reacts on instinct, before he can even recognize that Even isn’t speaking aloud. He reaches out.

 _It’ll be okay_ , he thinks, dredging up all the optimism he can, trying to soothe Even’s fears, and—

“Get the fuck out!” Even bursts out, loud and harsh. Isak feels it like a shove, tumbling out of Even’s consciousness and into his own, and when he opens his eyes he expects to be on the floor, but there he is on the kollektiv sofa, Even standing in front of him.

Isak doesn’t know what just happened, but he knows instinctively that he’ll pay for it.

“Sorry,” he starts, but Even shakes his head.

Isak feels the pull of him, where they aren’t touching—but more than that, he feels Even’s disgust, washing over him until he feels the shame burn his cheeks.

“I don’t want a bond,” Even says, rubbing his own head. “The sooner you accept that, the better.” 

—

In the darkness of the night, Isak can see every inch of Even next to him. Not quite with his eyes—but an awareness. He wonders if it’ll always be this way.

They lie beside each other in Isak’s bed, because Even’s is still a single and Isak has plenty of space. It’s still early, barely a day since the bond took form, but Isak can feel it tightening around them, an elastic band winding tighter and tighter. Once it settles, they’ll be able to stretch it without it snapping, but right now, Isak can barely stray a metre from Even without a dull throbbing starting up behind his eyes. 

They haven’t spoken a word, out loud, since Even said he didn’t want a bond, but the thoughts are still there. Isak hears them, now, loud and clear. Not all, but enough to be miserable.

“Do you want to sleep?” Isak asks, and Even huffs. He looks like he wants to turn away, but Isak feels the flash of guilt as Even takes in the hopeful look on Isak’s own face. Isak doesn’t know what feelings Even is getting from him, but Even’s own come thick and fast, sitting uncomfortably in Isak’s chest as he tries to make sense of them. With the lights off, it’s easier to focus on the sensations, but they feel bigger.

Big and bright and blazing.

“I want you out of my head,” Even says, and Isak can feel his residual anger like heartburn. It takes his breath away.

He can’t apologize any more than he has already. Even knows he’s sorry.

“I didn’t choose this,” Isak says, but he knows even as he says it that he might have. Given the chance, he might have picked Even, of all the people he could have bonded to. Because Isak wanted a bond.

Even scoffs, and Isak’s eyes prickle in embarrassment as he gets a wave of pity across the bond.

“We have to make this work though,” Isak says. “Maybe we could make some rules?”

“Rules?” Isak can hear the skepticism. Feel it. He’s not sure which it is.

“Like, things we can and can’t do,” Isak says. Anything that will stop Even from acting like Isak has signed his death warrant. “We have to stick together for a while, so.”

Even appraises him in the darkness, and Isak lifts his chin, tries to project confidence. Finally, Even sighs, and Isak can feel himself exhaling along with him.

“We don’t need rules,” Even says, “Just, please don’t go that far again. I can’t....”

“Okay.” Isak bites his lip, because he doesn’t want to repeat that experience. “Okay. Can we just… call a truce?”

Even is quiet for a long moment, then he clears this throat.

“Truce,” he says, and in the darkness, his hand finds Isak’s. Shakes it. Lingers, then pulls away.

Isak doesn’t want Even to hate him, is the thing. They’re bonded, now, and they need to make the best of it, especially for as long as it takes to settle.

“Once we can separate again, it’ll be fine,” Even tries. “I can go back to my girlfriend, and you can go back to…”

 _Pretending to be into girls at parties_ , Isak doesn’t say, but Even’s mouth twitches, like he hears it anyway.

Fucking awkward.

“Yeah. Okay,” Isak says out loud. He tries not to be embarrassed.

 _So much for true love and soul bonds_.

“Look, it’s just... nothing personal,” Even says. He tries to meet Isak’s eyes, but Isak shrugs. He knows that, at least. Isak heard his rant at the party. Everybody did.

“I said it’s chill.”

“But you don’t feel chill, though,” Even frowns.

“... I mean, I get it,” Isak tries. He really doesn’t understand Even's adamance, but he knows he has to accept it. Not everybody wants a soulbond. He’s sure Even has his reasons.

Even sighs again, like Isak is being unfair.

“I don’t want to be stuck with someone forever. Not if it isn’t my choice.”

“I think you always have a choice,” Isak interjects, and Even falls silent for a moment.

Isak has no idea why he said that.

He waits, wondering if Even is going to blow up at him again.

Down the bond, he feels nothing but tension. Slowly, it builds, then dissipates, as Isak exhales.

“What do you mean?” Even finally says, voice coloured with curiosity.

Isak meets his eyes, now, and tries not to lose himself in them.

“Well, we get to choose what the bond means to us, right?”

“Okay?” His confusion would be clear even if they weren’t psychically bound.

“So, like. We could be friends, if that's what we choose.”

It sounds alright, at least. They’re bonded. A friendship would be better than nothing, surely?

“It’s just...” Even says, and he tails off. Isak closes his eyes once more, lets the formless buzz of Even’s thoughts surround him, and carefully doesn’t prod at them.

For a moment, it’s almost comforting. Like intimacy.

“I can feel it,” Even says, carefully. “How disappointed you are.”

 _Fuck_.

Isak’s eyes fly open. He can’t help it—the shame that wells up in him. Because it’s true. He wanted it. This gift from the universe, this thing he has always secretly dreamed of having…

Isak feels like a cruel trick has been played on him, to get the very thing he’s always wanted with somebody who doesn’t want it back. 

“I’m sorry,” Isak says, honestly. He’s not sorry for the way he feels, but he’s sorry Even has to feel it too.

He can do better.

The thing is, Isak has probably read more about the science of bonding than he has any other thing. The theory of it just isn’t something he’d expected to need to practice. But he wants to protect himself, and Even wants him to stay away, and Isak is afraid.

When Isak’s eyes are shut, he can feel it growing. Even’s mind, pressed up against his own so close that it feels suffocating, for a moment.

So he gives it a go.

The books all say to build a wall, in your mind, but it’s all that Isak can do to pull back—to retreat enough that Even’s guilt and confusion no longer turn his stomach. It hurts to do so for more than a second, a throbbing headache starting up beneath his temples, and Isak grudgingly allows the band to tighten again, pulling his mind and Even’s together once more. For a brief moment, his thoughts are his own, Even’s simply a dull hum.

And now, they’re back full force.

 Isak’s head hurts, and he knows Even feels it. He closes his eyes again, focuses on the place inside himself that isn’t his own. He presses his mind against Even’s for a moment, lets it soothe him, until Even clears his throat.

“Just don’t wait for me fall in love with you,” Even says into the darkness, and Isak feels the truth of it ring through him, clear as a bell.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he says, more quietly. “But it wouldn’t be good for either of us.”

“Okay,” Isak murmurs. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Even turns over at that, pulling the covers up to his neck.

“Goodnight,” he says, and Isak echoes the sentiment, headache still pounding behind his eyes.

He says nothing about Isak’s mind, still curled around his own, and so Isak closes his eyes, and focuses on the warmth of him.

Tonight, he'll take what he can get.

 


	2. føler det du føler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi,” Even says, and Isak braces himself for a new day.
> 
> Hi, he says, and Even turns away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the thanks in the world to my number 1 cheerleader/friend/beta Immy. Thanks for holding my hand and only sending me down one rabbit hole.
> 
> [changes chapter count, runs and hides for cover]

Isak is dreaming about a place he has never been.

The cabin is cosy, and the fire is lit, and outside he knows the lake is freezing over but not solid enough to skate on. Upstairs, his grandmother is singing the songs she sang as a child while his mother was out at work and they were alone together--

Except that Isak never knew his grandmothers, and this woman is not his.

“How are you feeling, Even?” she says, when she enters the room. She is holding towels in her arms stained red, like it is nothing. And Isak is trapped in this body that says nothing, just burrows under blankets and does nothing, and when he looks up again the grandmother is gone, replaced by a familiar dark-haired boy with his face twisted in disgust. The party--Isak knows he recognizes him, but doesn’t understand why he’s filled with shame at the sight of him.

“You’re so fucking selfish,” the boy sneers, and that’s when Isak wakes up.

-

He manages to get to the bathroom to piss before the bond tugs at him--which is progress, at least.

He looks at himself in the mirror for a long time, gratified to see his own face staring back.

Even is fast asleep, a deep black hole of nothingness on the other end of the bond. These few moments, Isak’s mind is his own.

He makes the most of it.

He takes in a shuddering breath, making his hands into fists as he leans over the sink and lets himself feel it all: the disappointment, the anger, the bone-crushing loneliness of having the one person who was supposed to get it not even want to try.

He creeps back into bed just in time for Even to stir, opening his eyes to Isak with no anger clouding them, just confusion.

“Hi,” Even says, and Isak braces himself for a new day.

 _Hi_ , he says, and Even turns away.

\--

If breakfast is a strained affair, the rest of the morning isn’t much better. Now that they don’t need to be touching, Even makes the most of the distance. It’s not that he’s unfriendly--but despite their conversation the night before, he makes no mention of the bond or what they should be doing to nurture it.

Isak suspects he’s avoiding the issue.

Without Eskild and Linn, the kollektiv feels smaller, somehow. Empty. Isak and Even don’t linger in the bedroom, like Isak usually would, but it feels strange to sit on the sofa, Linn’s blanket over his knees, and not have her giving him a long-suffering look as she shuffles over to let him share it.

Isak tries to play a game on his phone, but it’s impossible to concentrate.

Across the room, Even is typing on his computer, an unfamiliar program up on his screen. Isak tries not to pay attention to it, but he can’t help it. Just fragments here and there, he can’t help catching, even as he tries not to.

_Pull back here, then POV switch?  
_

_This scene is fucked.  
_

_Fuck you, Mikael._

Isak sits there and feels the itch in his palms to go over there and touch him. Just a hand on his shoulder, maybe, or a glance of fingers as he takes his coffee cup. Part of him wants more than that; wants to wrap himself around Even. Not even him _self_ , necessarily--but that part of him that some people call a soul, and that Isak is more inclined to call consciousness. Science hasn’t figured out the science of _cognitive synchronicity_ just yet, but there are plenty of theories.

Isak would know. He’s read them all.

There’s a term for what he’s feeling right now; he knows that too. Bond hunger. As Even actively works against their connection, he starves it just as it’s trying to grow. They should be doing exercises right now. Exploring the bond, coaxing it out and letting it stretch its wings before they think about caging it. Perhaps Even doesn’t feel it as hard as he does, but to Isak, it’s an insatiable beast, clawing at his chest.

He breathes and breathes and breathes, until it passes. Even doesn’t look up, though Isak knows he must feel it too. 

His phone buzzes, and he reads it, desperate for a distraction.

 

 **Eskild  
** How are you today? <3 

 **Isak  
** Ok  

 **Eskild  
** Is it safe to come back?

 **Isak  
** Probably not a good idea 

 **Eskild  
** :O ;) ;)

Isak looks over at Even, but his expression hasn’t changed. His thoughts are still the same steady hum of film jargon and cursing. 

 **Isak**  
Not like that  
Just stress right now

 **Eskild**  
You know you can talk to me about this stuff though  
Even if I don’t have a bond I can help!  
Isak?

   
What is he supposed to tell Eskild? His roommate, more than anyone, knows how long Isak has imagined having a bond. Eskild has always claimed he feels differently, but Isak sees his face when he comes home from another one night stand, someone who isn’t meant for him.

Eskild won’t sleep with people who already have bonds. He claims there’s a lot of them out there--people wanting to live their wild days out before settling down with the person they’re destined for. Or people like Jonas and Eva, not ready to work on what their bond means.

Isak thinks that means Eskild would like a bond, one day. Either way, Isak thinks he deserves someone he can keep.

“Isak?”

He feels the moment Even’s attention turns to him. Something about it like being in the path of a ray of sunlight.

“My mama... she’s calling. And I need to tell her about this.”

 _This_ being the soulbond. Right.

That’s a thing people tell their mothers about, isn’t it?

“Okay,” Isak says. _Why are you telling me this?_

“Can you put some music on or something?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Like, privacy?”

Isak could laugh. They’re two days into a fucking soulbond, and Even wants privacy.

“You think that’ll help?”

“It can’t hurt.”

 _It can definitely hurt_ , Isak thinks, but he gets what Even means. Right now, the bond is wide open on Even’s side. Either Even hasn’t learned yet how to shut Isak out, or Isak isn’t good at not pushing himself in.

So he puts on his headphones, tries to focus on the familiar sounds of NWA, and ignores the growing ache as he tries to keep his mind at a distance.

It’s mostly fruitless. By the time Even relays the conversation to him, Isak already knows almost everything he’s going to say. Even’s mother had said very little, but she’d made Even incredibly uncomfortable. Guilty, too, for whatever reason.

“She says we need to see a bond doctor,” Even says, oddly nervous.

 _Enosi-psycheologist_ , Isak corrects in his head. Even doesn’t react--probably because ‘bond doctor’ is all he cares to know about the profession.

He perches at the other end of the kollektiv sofa like he’s not sure he belongs there. “She thinks we should make sure everything’s okay.”

 _And?_ Isak doesn’t bother to say it out loud, and Even grimaces.

“She made an appointment for us the day after tomorrow. Can you do that?”

“Yes. That’s fine.”

 Isak doesn’t really have a choice, if Even decides to go. It’s not the worst idea, anyway, to get things confirmed, as much as Isak fucking hates doctors--

“Are you always this fucking passive?” Even asks, and Isak’s hackles go up.

“Passive?”

“I can feel that you aren’t chill with this,” he says “Fucking hell, if you want to say something, say it out loud.”

Afterwards, Isak will recognise how their emotions feed off each other. But right now, he doesn’t think about where it comes from. He just lets himself be riled.

 _Okay_ , Isak thinks, because he can. _Do you know how bad it can get, if we don’t use the bond?_

He’s seen it. Articles upon articles about reduced brain function, migraines, emotional instability--

_Stop that._

Even’s voice in his head is clear as a bell, the weight of force and will behind it.

 _No_ , Isak thinks. _We said friends, didn’t we?_

Even’s formless annoyance is answer enough, but he grits his teeth.

“What do you want from me?”

_What are you scared of?_

_Fuck you. I’m not scared._

It’s not a lie. Even focuses on his frustration, unease, regret. He lets it rise to the surface until its Isak’s to inhabit.

But it doesn’t change anything. If this is fight or flight, Even’s instinct has been the latter. He wants to run away, pretend this isn’t happening.

Problem is, the bond won’t let him go.

 _We don’t all want a bond as badly as you_ , Even thinks, and it’s sharp as a barb.

 _I want it a normal amount_. Isak’s instinct is to fight. _Like a normal person!_

 _Fuck normal_ , Even practically spits. Perhaps he can do fighting too. _I don’t want this!_

 _Yeah, yeah-- you don’t want to be bonded to me_ , Isak thinks. _I heard you the first time. But you **are**._

The frustration increases.

_It’s nothing personal!_

Isak is breathing hard again, but this time it isn’t bond hunger. It’s exhilaration, the bond finally being given what it needs. He barely has a moment to register it, or the jolt of surprise from Even, because--there’s anger, too. Anger and a not so healthy dose of grief.

They must look ridiculous, sitting here staring at each other like this.

 _Yeah, right_ , Isak thinks before he can help himself, and Even narrows his eyes. Isak tries to think about something else, but Even doesn’t let him. And the strangest thing about thinking the same thought is that try as Isak might to bury it, with Even’s mind on the same trail, it rises to the top until Isak’s fears are out there in neon lights. The things that he tries not to think about when he’s lonely and afraid he’ll always be that way.

His mother telling him to leave and as she ripped into her pillows with ragged fingernails. Jonas asking him if he’d found somewhere to stay, yet, increasingly urgent, and the pinched look on Eva’s face every time they silently talked about him while he was in the room. The way Elias laughs when he sees Isak with a girl. Emma’s anger when he asked if they could just lie there, hold each other, be quiet.

Isak can’t help feeling like he’s hard to love, sometimes, so it almost makes sense. That his bondmate, too, would see who he is and find him wanting--why is he always wanting? Why--

_No._

Isak wrenches himself back from his own demons, pushing as hard as he can until Even is gone from his head.

On the edge of the sofa, Even looks white, like the pathetic sadness of Isak’s heart has permeated into him, chilling him to the core.

“Isak--” he starts, and Isak shakes his head.

“Forget it.”

_Isak._

_If you don’t want to be bonded, get out of my head,_ Isak thinks, a wounded animal lashing out one last time. Even retreats, something like remorse pressing fleetingly to Isak’s temple.

Isak’s shame burns bright and hot, eclipsing whatever else Even might feel about it.

They keep their distance for the rest of the day.

-

Isak can’t sleep, and so he practices.

He lies there in bed alone and he lets his grip on the walls of his mind slacken. Lets his frustration and sadness pour out until he feels like he has run dry, soothes the ache in his temples and lets the sleepy contentedness radiating from Even be a balm. One by one, he picks at the scabs of the things he feels for Even, lets them bleed a while, then shoves them to the deepest part of himself to heal over again in private. He can keep the the walls up for nearly a minute before bond hunger kicks in, which feels like progress.

He rebuilds the walls until not a single tendril of Even’s nightmare can leak into his mind, until the effort to put them up feels less and less like a strain, and more like a test of endurance. Even has not bothered to learn how to shut Isak out, but Isak learns how to make himself a shield that lets nothing through without his permission. Not Even’s feelings, and not his own. 

It’s not enough to lessen how bad this feels, right now.

It won’t be enough.

 -

 “Isak, what is Even feeling?”

The bond doctor--enosi-psycheologist--has a voice that’s sweet and low, like she’s been trained in how to soothe. Everything about her is designed to be unthreatening, from her mousy hair to her ugly sweater, and yet Isak feels the resentment Even carries like it’s his own. Isak doesn’t give a shit about her, can’t even remember her name, and literally the only thing he’d noticed coming in was that she wasn’t wearing gloves, probably had a bond of her own.

But Even is angry at her, for making them do this.

“Hungry. Irritated.” Isak says. “The usual.”

 _Ha ha,_ Even says inside his head. _You’re hilarious._

“And Even? How is Isak, this morning?”

Even pauses, and Isak holds his breath, for a moment. That’s a whole rabbit hole Even doesn’t want to go down. Deliberately knowing how Isak feels.

“... Tired,” Even says, eventually. “As usual.”

“How’s your sleep, Isak?” The bond doctor asks, and Isak could laugh.

“Better than usual,” he says, because it’s true.

And then they move on to blocking. The doctor’s voice is soothing enough that it’s easy to drift off, slip into a place where it is just him and Even and the tie that binds them.

_Close your eyes. Visualize your mind as a room. What does the room look like? Imagine a door. Imagine a series of doors. Imagine that the other person is waiting on the other side of the door. Imagine he is looking through a window. Imagine you are closing the curtains._

_Imagine he is stepping over the threshold. Can you still push him back?_

When Even steps forward, Isak doesn’t push him. Even presses in with such force that Isak is winded, but it’s not angry like before. Even is just--there. Consciousness filling Isak up until he feels warm, and safe, and it’s like standing beside a fire when you come in from the snow with cold feet, feeling the feeling come back into your frozen extremities--

 _It’s not about you,_ Even says, as he seeps away again. _It’s not you, Isak._

Isak wishes he’d forget it altogether.

“The bond seems fine,” the doctor tells them, startling him, and Isak can’t help the sigh of relief that comes out of him. “If a little fast,” she says, frowning at her computer screen. “Just don’t push it too hard, too early.”

“Could that damage the bond?” Even asks, and Isak resents the little swell of interest that pulses from him until the doctor shakes her head.

“No,” she says kindly, “but the side effects are unpleasant.”

Even nods, but Isak frowns.

What a nice term for bond hunger, Isak thinks. He’s been feeling plenty of _side effects_ , these first few days.

It’s not what he wants to know, anyway.

Not what he was up all night thinking about.

“Is there a way to break the bond?” Isak asks, before she can say anything else. He feels Even’s surprise, but ignores it. “I’ve done some research that says we could. Like, block it.”

The doctor’s face is a picture.

“Well,” she says. “A bond is--it’s a gift. That would be…”

“Unusual,” Isak prods. “But not impossible?”

She sighs. Across the bond, Even’s emotions are a tangle Isak can’t begin to comprehend. Confusion and worry and--somewhere at the bottom--something like hope.

“There are some options,” she says. “But they’re usually used in extreme cases. When one party has dementia, for example, or some other extenuating circumstance--”

“I’m bipolar,” Even says, interrupting her. “Is that extenuating enough?”

What the fuck? 

Isak turns to look at him, incredulous--because for a moment he thinks it’s a joke. There’s no way he’s been bonded to Even for three days without knowing that. There’s no fucking way that his bondmate hasn’t told him about having a serious mental illness.

Is Even seriously lying to the doctor?

But Even closes his eyes for a moment, and Isak sees it as it surfaces. A memory, however hazy, of a hospital bed. A woman crying beside him. The dry rasp of his throat from when they pumped his stomach.

Tears prick at Isak’s eyes, and he does all he can to get a grip, to retreat enough that he isn’t broadcasting the hurt and worry to Even loud and accusatory.

Even flinches, and Isak breathes out. Lets it go, because he can’t process that right now.

The doctor’s face clears, understanding.

“It might be,” she says. She turns back to her computer for a long moment, and Even blatantly ignores the rollercoaster of Isak’s emotions beside him, just as Isak ignores Even’s.

“Even would need to take the medication at the same time every day for it to be effective,” she says. “There are risks--.”

“But only for me?” Even asks, and she nods. A piece of paper spools out from the printer beside her, and she hands it to Even with a grave face.

“This particular medication helps patients who cannot block the bond themselves, for whatever reason,” she explains. “To the other bondmate, it will simply feel like the bond is closed.” She turns to Isak. “So you shouldn’t feel any discomfort.”

“So it doesn’t cut the bond completely?” Even asks... but Isak already knows the answer. Google and Red Bull have so many of them.

“We cannot sever the bond without lasting mental trauma,” she says, voice tight.

It isn’t legal, either. Because it’s irreversible.

 _So what?_ Even asks, seeming to catch the thought.

Isak pretends not to hear it. 

“You’ll have to wait until the bond settles,” she says, “but if you work on the bond until then, and you still want to do this, I can prescribe the blockers.”

Isak feels the way Even lights up, and steels himself for what comes next.

Better this than feel Even’s resentment for the rest of his life, he thinks. Better this than--whatever yesterday was. Even hates the bond, and Isak hates that he can feel that hatred. This person who has all the power in the world to hurt Isak--Isak would have handed his heart over in an instant.

And Even is unwilling to let him, and now Isak is cautious. Hurt, maybe, but also resigned, in a way he wasn’t before.

Isak survived fine back then, being alone in his head. He can do it for the rest of his life, if he has to.

“We’ll check in once a week until then,” she says. “And if you both agree, we’ll go from there.”

Even is already celebrating in his head. _Freedom! Freedom!_

“But,” the doctor says, holding a hand up in warning. “You have to try to make the bond work. I can’t in good faith prescribe this if you haven’t at least tried.”

“I promise,” Even says immediately, and Isak echoes his words, but he can’t stop the shiver that runs down his spine. “We’ll try, we promise.”

“You’ll never bond again,” the doctor says, but Isak is hardly listening. 

He doesn’t know what he’s more afraid of.

That Even is lying, or that he isn’t.

 


	3. meg og deg e verden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Epic love stories', Even thinks, defiantly. 'Where people choose each other'.
> 
> Choice.
> 
> 'Choice is an illusion', Isak thinks, before he can stop himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is messy and unbetaed but I can't stand the idea of another day without posting it. 
> 
> I'm so sorry for the break. Between moving and anxiety and crippling self-doubt... well, y'all know what's up.
> 
> I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. (If it does, please don't tell me.)

Isak’s palm is itching under his glove and he can’t get his finger in to scratch it properly. Mamma says he shouldn’t take them off, but it’s the height of summer, his gloves are thick and scratchy, and his class is outside searching for insects. Jonas, beside him, studies a caterpillar as it crawls over his own gloved hand, not at all bothered by the creepy crawlies. Yesterday, Frida put one in Jonas’s cloud of hair, and all he did was gently shake it out and let it free.

Isak hates them. He hates looking at ants, the way it makes him feel their phantom legs crawling on his body. He shudders long and hard because _gross, bugs are so gross_.

When the teacher is preoccupied, he whips off the tight material, and lets out a sigh as he scratches his hand.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Even says, and Isak whips his head around to see him leaning against a tree, eyes mocking--

Wait.

It’s January. Isak is seventeen, and he doesn’t need to wear gloves anymore.

“Put them back on,” Even says, and then his face twists. “Why would I say that? I wouldn’t say that.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Isak asks, and Even dissolves into nothingness.

-

When he wakes up, everything is cosy. Even’s arm wraps around Isak’s chest, with his hand resting casually over Isak’s heart like it belongs there. He can feel Even’s breath, snuffling into his neck, and how Even’s heartbeat against his back is almost a perfect match for his own.

 _Physiological synchronisation_ , he reminds himself, trying to think of it rationally. A common effect of an early bond.

There’s a scientific reason for all of it, is the thing. But that doesn’t make him feel any less sleep-warm and content. In spite of the dream, he feels more rested than he has in months.

It’s ironic, considering how fucking uncomfortable the night before was.

After they got back from the doctor’s, it had been like a fucking inquisition.

Even had wanted to know why Isak had asked about blocking the bond. Isak hadn’t had much of an answer, except that he thought it would hurt less in the long run.

Even’s gratitude had been too big for Isak to contain, sitting heavily on his chest like an obligation.

But the truth was, Isak had felt sick to his stomach as soon as he’d left the consulting room, absolutely petrified at what he’d just done. Even could feel it. Isak could feel that Even could feel it. It was an infinite loop of sickness and guilt and worry.

They’d fallen asleep early, sick of each other and the uneasy silence between them.

And now there’s this.

Even makes a complaining noise as Isak pulls away, and Isak lets himself be tugged back for just a moment, feel Even wrap himself around Isak like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Isak presses his mind close against the sleep-sweet embrace of Even’s own, and relishes, for a second, how soft it feels, like sinking into a pile of feathers, or slipping into a hot bath after a cold morning.

 _Isak_ , Even murmurs wordlessly, a half-conscious imitation of tenderness, and Isak drags himself out of bed.

It’s another reminder of what he wants but can’t have.

-

When Even joins him in the kitchen, yawning and smiling, Isak’s first instinct is suspicion.

“Morning,” Even says cheerfully, and Isak narrows his eyes at the way Even shuffles over to the cupboard and starts rummaging for a frying pan like everything is completely normal.

“Hi,” Isak says cautiously, and Even smiles.

“Eggs?” he asks, and Isak is still too surprised to do much more than nod.

Even opens another cupboard and gets out some plates. Isak hands him some eggs without thinking, then the little carton of sour cream from inside the fridge door. Even raises his eyebrows when he sees it in Isak’s hand, and Isak stares at it in confusion.

He doesn’t know why he did that, but Even doesn’t hand it back.

 _Secret recipe_. Even is playful, and it feels like an olive branch.

 _Not so secret anymore_ , Isak thinks back.

“Sour cream?” He says out loud, and Even smiles.

“Try it. You’ll see.”

It’s so different like this, Isak thinks. With them working together, some kind of harmony between them. His head isn’t hurting--like it’s only now that it’s stopped aching that he realises how bad it was in the first place.

Even cooks, and Isak sets the table, and they move around each other with ease, fleeting touches that belong to a kind of intimacy Isak has never had.

He tries not to notice, in case he breaks the spell--just listens as Even potters around his kitchen like he belongs there, singing along to shitty pop music in his head.

It’s only when their plates are clear that they talk about something that matters.

Even clears his throat, foreign nerves fluttering in Isak’s belly, and he braces himself. Again.

“What does ‘trying’ mean, do you think?”

Isak takes a deep breath.

“What?”

“This whole bond thing. What are we supposed to do to work on it?”

“Are you serious?”

It doesn’t surprise Isak that Even doesn’t know how to work on a bond. It doesn’t surprise him that Even agreed to it without knowing what he signed up for. And yet--

“You heard the bond doctor,” Even says, like he’s trying to be patient.

_Enosi-psycheologist._

“Yeah, whatever. Well, we have show we’ve tried, to get approved.”

Isak suspected he was leading up to that, but that doesn’t stop his burst of surprise.

“So you meant it?”

 _Are we actually going to try for a month?_ Isak can’t say it out loud. _Or did you just want me to fake it?_

"Couldn’t you tell?”

Isak can’t read Even at all, half the time. Despite being his fucking bondmate. Although, perhaps they won’t be that much longer if Even gets his way...

“No,” Isak says. “I really couldn’t.”

“We need to try enough to convince her,” Even shrugs. “I just don’t know what ‘trying’ entails.”

Isak bites his lip, trying not to blow up at him. Even tracks the movement almost absent-mindedly.

Even, of course, has paid exactly zero attention in any biology classes ever. He doesn’t know the first thing about bonds, except that he doesn’t want them. Maybe that’s why he’s so casual about what he’s asking.

It just seems unfair. For Even to ask Isak to try, to let Even that close, only for Even to use that as proof to get away from him.

“It’s not _getting away from you_ ,” Even says, a note of irritation colouring his voice--and oh, yeah. Isak’s emotions are leaking all over the place. “I don’t know why you think this is so personal.”

_For fuck’s sake._

Isak focuses on something less pathetic: exasperation. How many times can they have one conversation?

“It’s a bond,” Isak says, as patiently as he can. “What is it, if it isn’t personal?”

“You know what I mean!” Even looks riled now, too. “I didn’t want to bond to _anyone_ , it’s not… it’s not even a little bit about you.”

“But you did bond!” Isak says. “To me! And now I’m stuck playing along with this whole…”

 _Farce? Charade?_ Apparently Even is a walking thesaurus, because Isak can’t quite finish the sentence fast enough.

“This isn’t something you can do halfway,” Isak says. “You can’t just play at a bond.”

“I know that.”

“It’d be real, Even.” Isak says, voice softer. Serious.

Honestly, he just wants Even to get it.

_You’d be dangling all I ever wanted in front of me, just to take it away again._

(Apparently, Isak can say things in his head that he’d never say out loud.)

Even’s answering despair is satisfying.

“What do I have to do?” Even asks, finally. “What do you want from me?”

As if Isak hasn’t been wondering the same thing all morning.

He takes his plate to the sink and tries not to drop it too hard.

The water stings his hands, and he relishes the way it makes Even flinch.

“I don’t know,” he says.

And they both know he’s lying, this time.

-

Isak doesn’t think he could bear another day of watching Even type, so he takes his laptop into Eskild’s room, swinging the door shut with a bang.

Jonas answers the Skype call nearly immediately, and Isak has never been more grateful for his best friend.

They hardly bother with pleasantries, Jonas simply furrowing his eyebrows to say _what’s up?_ As soon as he takes in Isak’s expression.

Just the sight of his best friend calms Isak, a little, but not enough to keep quiet. He puts his headphones on and clears his mind. He focuses all his attention on Jonas, and it helps.

Jonas’s face on the screen is hidden in shadows where he lies on his bed. Normally, Isak would be tempted to screenshot the several chins he’s sporting, but he has more important things on his mind. Namely:

“What was it like when you bonded with Eva?”

Isak’s favourite thing about Jonas is that he thinks before he speaks, when it’s important. He’s measured, and he mulls things over, and he knows when Isak needs him to be serious.

This is one of those times.

“Well, I think I already knew we were going to,” Jonas admits. “If that’s even possible.”

It isn’t. Scientifically.

“What do you mean?”

Jonas smiles, the way he always does when he looks at Eva.

"Like, I remember before the first time I touched her I was sort of scared, but I knew I needed to. We were at this party and I kept looking for a sign I should do it.”

“You never told me that before.”

“Yeah,” Jonas shrugged. “It’s hard to explain.”

“What was the sign?” Isak can’t help but ask. Jonas winces, as if he’s embarrassed to admit it.

“Well, I decided if they played, uh, a certain song next... that was a sign I should do it.”

“And they did?”

“No,” he says, smiling to himself. “But she reached out and took my hand and then that was it. Boom.”

“Boom,” Isak repeats. “I remember that part.”

“Yeah, well,” Jonas retorts. “I didn’t pass out, at least.”

Jonas and Eva had fallen into each other’s arms and not let go for a very long time. Everyone had given them a wide berth--even Ingrid, tears running down her cheeks. Jonas had told him once that when they first bonded, they couldn’t get enough of each other. Spent the first two weeks tangled up in each other’s minds and bodies alike.

“Ha ha,” Isak says drily, instead of saying all that.

Jonas got the fairytale. Maybe it’s why Isak had wanted it so badly.

“Why do you ask?” Jonas says, eventually. “Is everything okay with Even?”

Isak closes his eyes for a moment, pictures the closed door, making doubly sure that he’s shut Even out. It would be painful to have Even hear what he’s about to say; feel what he’s about to feel. Even hasn’t mastered the art of putting up walls, so Isak needs to.

“It’s not okay,” Isak confesses. “We’re not going to be bondmates.”

His voice cracks on that last word, and Jonas’s expression turns stormy.

“Is,” he says, voice careful. “What do you mean?”

Isak shrugs, and Jonas waits him out, until Isak can’t help himself, lets the truth tumble out of his mouth in a pitiable torrent. Even doesn’t want a bond. Even doesn’t want him. Even wants to dissolve the bond. Even wants to try, but only enough to get his damn prescription.

“So you’re gonna let him decide?” Jonas asks, finally. “You’re not going to fight for it?”

Isak shrugs again, and Jonas narrows his eyes. Isak’s not sure he’s ever looked more disappointed.

“What do you want, Isak?” Jonas asks. “Fuck what he wants. What about you?”

A week ago, Isak could have told him the answer without hesitation.

And now... Better to live with a bondmate who resents him, or not to be bonded at all?

Isak has no fucking clue.

The thing is, Isak doesn’t know Even very well. He doesn’t know if it really would be terrible, being paired with him for life. But a bond is a bond, and the statistics don’t lie: the overwhelming majority of bonded pairs report happy and fulfilled lives together. Bondmates who try to live separately are statistically less happy and healthy than people who don’t have a bond at all.

And Isak has wanted one all his life. To have somebody be his.

-

Even has his back to the door when Isak enters the living room, but Isak knows Even knows he’s not alone there, if only because he reaches out with his mind, nudges Even’s to test the waters.

Even lets him, and for a moment, there’s warmth.

Isak sits beside him on the sofa.

“If we’re going to try,” Isak says slowly. “It has to be all in.”

“How do you mean?”

“Give me a month to change your mind,” he says. “Like real bondmates. No pretending, no holding back. If you still want to block the bond after that, I’ll tell the doctor whatever you want me to say.”

Isak wants to know, just for a while, what it’s like to have a bond like Jonas and Eva have. Even if he never feels it again. He’ll know.

“Real,” Even says, face paling. “Like--”

“Yes,” Isak says, stubbornly. “That’s what I want.”

Even runs the full spectrum of negative emotions. From fear to anger to pity--but Isak can bear that, if he gets a chance to change Even’s mind.

“Okay,” Even says, finally, holding out his hand.

His mind is whirring, wheels turning as he examines the idea in his head. Isak feels it coalesce, simmer, until finally Even acquiesces, and all goes quiet. Even’s conclusion is simple, at the end of the day.

A month is a small price to pay for the rest of his life. For permission to do the unthinkable, and escape the shackles of the bond.

Isak takes Even’s hand, and he shakes it.

“Until the bond settles,” Even says. “I guess we’re doing this.”

-

When Isak doesn’t know what to do, he researches. Which is why, that night, he finds himself looking at a luridly pink website with GET TO KNOW UR BONDMATE in sparkly letters.

WEEK ONE! Ask your bondmate these questions, close your eyes, and pay attention to their thoughts and feelings as they answer!  
  
He tells Even about them over breakfast, because if he only gets a month, he wants to start as soon as possible. He isn't sure Even will agree, but he does.

Day one of trying, Isak supposes. Starting in earnest.

They sit together on the sofa, and snigger a little about it, cross-legged with their eyes closed like little children at a seance. 

The questions aren’t bad, at first. From the banal: _describe a normal day in your life..._

[“Get up. Eat. Work on this script with my friend Mikael. Go to work. See Sonja.”

“Where do you work?”

“Just KB.”

“Are you studying?”

“No, I’m taking the year out. All my friends are, really.”]

... to the cliched: what was your favourite school subject?

[“Biology.”

“Of course it is.”

“I like that there are right answers. Biology makes the world make sense.”]

But they get hard fast.

“Describe your relationship with your parents,” Even says, and Isak hesitates.

[Pappa left them for the first time three months after Lea’s wedding. Once she was gone for good, living in Stockholm with Svein, everything went to shit. Mamma had been so good for so long and then she wasn’t. Or maybe she hadn’t been good. Maybe Isak just hadn’t known. Hadn’t seen the strain on Lea or heard the things Mamma had said to Pappa when Isak wasn’t in the room.

Lea had been enough to keep them together, but Isak was not. Lea left, then Pappa left, and then Mamma did, too, in her own way, slipping away from Isak as she stood there in front of him, refusing to let him touch her without gloves on because his soul was too unclean, because _anything that the unclean person touches shall be unclean--_

Pappa had left his gloves on the kitchen table.]

“Complicated,” Isak says, and feels the probe of Even’s curiosity. He should show Even, he knows, but his instinct is to push back, keep this to himself.

Instead, he recalls a memory from the day he told his father he was moving out. How it felt like a weight off of his chest and a burning shame all at once.

Even says nothing at that, but Isak feels the way his chest goes tight. He opens his eyes.

He takes back his phone, scrolls the top, and clears his throat. This is lighter.

“Given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest?” Isak reads. Isak doesn’t know how he’d answer that one, which doesn’t seem like a great start. Given the choice of hanging out with literally anyone in the world, he’d probably still choose one of his friends. Jonas, almost certainly.

He doesn’t give a fuck about meeting fancy famous people or boring dead guys.

“Baz Luhrmann,” Even says. No hesitation. Isak presses in closer, questioning, and Even’s mind opens up to a spectacle of colour and lights and tragedy.

 _Epic love stories_ , Even thinks, defiantly. _Where people choose each other._

Choice.

 _Choice is an illusion,_ Isak thinks, before he can stop himself.

Even’s eyes fly open.  
  
“How so?” he asks, face twisting into a frown.

Fuck. It’d be easier to articulate in his head, probably.

It’s like parallel universes--or at least that’s how Isak sees it. The idea of free will is an illusion, because at the end of the day, everything that can happen will happen, in some universe or another. And the Isak and Even in this universe bonded at New Year, so there are infinite numbers of Isak and Even’s who didn’t touch, or met later, or bonded and embraced it right away.

“None of that makes sense to me,” Even says, and Isak bites his lip. “I can choose to stay with you or not. I can choose to be with someone else, if I want to. Literally anyone I want.”

That’s not the point.

“You can,” Isak says. “But you can’t choose to want someone.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s biology,” Isak says. “Attraction. That’s pheromones, just like the ones that catalyse a bond.”

“What about emotional attraction?” Even challenges.

“Also biology,” Isak says. “Not just the fact that you are biologically unable to change your personality or like, how smart you are, but also, emotional attraction is chemicals in your brain. Phenylethylamine, norepinephrine, and dopamine.”

“What’s your point?” Even says, but his brow is furrowed, and Isak thinks he gets it.

A bond might be the extreme, but in every circumstance, science dictates who you fall for, not choice.

The choice isn’t to love or not to love. It’s to stay, or not to stay.

Even stands up and leaves the room, frustration carrying him like a wave.

Isak throws his phone into the cushions.

\--

Even sulks in Isak’s room until the late afternoon, until someone leans aggressively on the doorbell. It rings and rings and Isak lets it, until Even sticks his head out, annoyed.

“Were you expecting someone?” Even asks, sounding tired.

Isak feels a little guilty. Perhaps Even was napping, or--

“No,” Isak says. “Maybe it’s Eskild--”

But Even opens the door, and Isak doesn’t recognize the person on the other side.

“Bro! It’s good to see you!”

Even steps back as the boy moves forwards to hug him, but he’s not quite fast enough.

It doesn’t hurt, exactly, but Isak can feel where the boy touches Even’s skin, the prickly heat of being too close to an open flame. The boy’s hands are heavily gloved, but Isak feels it nonetheless.

“Elias,” A second boy chastises, and the first steps back, looking sheepish.

“Hey, Yousef,” Even says, his mouth stretching into a wide grin.

And then he steps back, like it’s perfectly normal, and allows his friends into Isak’s flat without another word.

Isak is just gearing up to say something when third boy follows them in, and Isak feels his heart beat faster at the sight of him. _Mikael_ \--Even seems to sigh the name in his mind, and Isak bites his lip in discomfort.

This is the boy from Even’s dream, he realises, and Even turns to look at him sharply.

 _Can you give us some privacy?_ He asks, and Isak mentally rolls his eyes as obnoxiously as possible.

“I’ll be in my room,” he mumbles, and from Even he feels something akin to satisfaction.

It doesn’t do much to thaw his annoyance.

“Oh, wait,” the first boy says, just as Isak steps away. He rummages in his backpack, brandishing a sheaf of paper. “My sister asked me to bring you this so you don’t get too far behind. Something about beating you on her own terms.”

“Your sister?”

Isak has never met this guy in his life. Why the heck would he know…?

 _Elias_ , Even reminds him. _His sister is called--_

“Sana?” Elias rolls his eyes. “Wears a hijab, lots of eyeliner?”

“You’re Sana’s brother?” Isak asks, taking the paper from him--a bunch of messily written chemistry notes in her familiar handwriting.

He’s careful not to let his hand touch Elias.

He and Sana have become closer lately, but he hadn’t told her about the bond. Hadn’t told anyone, except for Eskild, and the people who saw it happen.

 _People must know_ , Isak thinks, swallowing down the instinctive fear that comes with it. And people are going to know he’s failed, when he returns to school with no bondmate to mention.

“She doesn’t talk about me?” Elias asks,

“Sana’s too cool for you, bro,” Yousef chimes in with a strange smile, and the others groan. Even is radiating amusement, although Isak can’t for the life of him figure out why.

Isak slinks away as they bicker, not missing how Mikael’s eyes follow him as he goes.

Gaze still on Isak, Mikael reaches out to pull Even into a hug.

Isak isn’t sure what’s more overwhelming: the sting of the touch, or Even’s joy.  


\--

In his room, Isak thinks about walls.

He thinks about Jonas and Eva, mentally and physically entangled, and he thinks about the space between their minds, seemingly impossible to bridge without stepping on some landmine. He thinks about waking up that morning in Even’s arms, and the phantom pressure of Mikael’s hand on his neck.

He paces, and then he rages, and then he despairs.

The afternoon becomes night, and then Even is knocking at Isak’s door with a pizza box in his hand, puppy dog eyes in full force.

Isak steps back to let him in, but keeps his guard up. _Imagine there is a door and Even is standing behind it. Close the door._

“I’m sorry about them,” Even says. “They can be a little bit…”

“A lot,” Isak says. “They’re a lot.”

“I didn’t invite them,” Even says. “If that’s what you were thinking.”

Isak was thinking that, yeah.

He gets that Even was angry this morning, but--Jonas has stayed away. Eskild has stayed away. Even is supposed to be giving him this time, and it hasn’t even been two days.

“They were just worried,” Even says, placating. “Maybe you could have your friends, too? Maybe that would help?”

Now that Isak looks at him, Even does seem lighter.

“Maybe,” Isak admits, and Even smiles at him.

Isak doesn’t want to be appeased by it, but it’s so fucking bright.

"Do you want to try again?” Even asks, as Isak grudgingly picks up a slice of pizza.

Even still hovers uncomfortably at the end of the bed, so Isak gestures until he sits--until they’re at opposite ends of Isak’s bed, taking large bites and making horribly awkward eye contact.

“Yeah,” Isak says, swallowing heavily. Tentatively, he lets down his defences, pushes some gratitude Even’s way. “I guess.”

“I found some different questions,” Even says, handing over his phone like a peace offering. Isak scrolls down, ignoring the title ([ “The 36 Questions That Lead to Love” ](https://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/11/fashion/no-37-big-wedding-or-small.html)) in favour of skimming the list. It doesn’t look too bad, but he’d thought that about the others, before.

“You found these?”

“Well, Yousef helped,” Even admitted. “He said we should take it in turns to ask.”

Isak is suddenly wary. Did Even tell his friends about their failed first attempt?

Even’s surprise--offence, maybe--comes through fast and strong.

“I’d never tell them that stuff,” he says, and his voice is low. “That’s our business.”

“Okay,” Isak says, and he believes him. “But maybe… can we try something else?”

Even nods, and Isak exhales.

 _Now or never_ , he thinks. _It’ll help, or it won’t_.

“Take my hand,” Isak says. “Come closer?”  
  
  



	4. langt igjen å gå

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will be the first time they’ve put distance between them since they bonded. Isak can’t act like he doesn’t have doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's gone midnight and ugh ugh ugh I'll read this again in the morning and write a more coherent thing here but HELLO HAVE THIS FOR NOW LOVE YOU

_Come closer_. Even doesn’t get it, at first, but when he does, his eyebrows shoot right up. 

Isak can’t say the word out loud, but he lets his thoughts broadcast loud and clear. 

“Cuddling?” Even asks, dubiously. “You think we should cuddle?”

Yes,  _cuddling_.

Isak doesn’t hide his exasperation. It masks the embarrassment nicely.

If Even knew anything about how to deal with a bond, he’d know that physical closeness is as important as mental closeness. Bond science is inexact, but there’s a reason Mikael’s touch burned for so long, and if they are going to try, it isn’t just their minds that have to meet.

Isak focuses on remembering that, and Even sheepishly shuffles closer.

 _Okay_ , he seems to say, and then before Isak can ready himself, Even moves in, shuffling closer to Isak on the bed and cautiously putting his hand on Isak’s shoulder.

Woah.

Isak imagines this is what it is like to put on glasses for the first time. Everything sharpens, like the world has snapped into place. Suddenly, it’s so much easier to focus on Even, how he feels, intuit where his soul ends and Even’s begins.

Isak shuffles closer, and buries his face in Even’s neck, until they’re locked in an awkward sideways hug, not saying a word.

Even’s arms are long, wrapping around Isak with ease, but that doesn’t make it comfortable.

“Maybe we should close our eyes,” Isak suggests. “Lie down.”

Even sighs, but nods.

Why the hell not.

Even lies down, body a rigid line along Isak’s mattress. Isak has tried not to look, too much, when they climb into bed together each night, but in the light of day the sight of Even there makes something uneasy stir in his belly.

Isak blinks the feeling away, then turns to face Even. It’s a little strange, looking at each other like this, but Isak isn’t sure what to do with his arms. If he’s supposed to spoon Even, if if he’s supposed to tuck himself in and let Even put his freakish limbs to use.

Ugh, Even responds, lying on his back, and tugging Isak until he’s half sprawled on Even’s chest, face back on Even’s collarbone. The tension leeches out of Isak slowly but surely, and he breathes, breathes in the smell of Even and tries to stop his heart from beating so fucking fast.

 _So weird_ , Even thinks, and Isak could laugh, except that he’s too busy feeling relieved.

  
- 

“Isak,” the doctor asks. “How are you adjusting?”

Back in the enosi-psycheologist’s office, Isak can hardly believe the first week has already passed. There are things he didn’t notice before—like the aggressive heat from the radiators, which has him taking off his snow-wet hat and shrugging out of his jacket. Like the little rainbow flag on her desk.

“Fine,” he says, and she nods, absently clicking at her computer.

“No adverse effects?” She continues, and Isak sneaks a look at Even before shaking his head. “It’s fine.”

“And you Even?” She asks, finally looking up. She appraises Even with a critical eye that has him on edge, and Isak shifts uncomfortably on his hard chair. “Are you getting used to feeling Isak?” 

Even shrugs.

“I hardly feel him, sometimes,” he says, leaning back on his own chair in a decent façade of nonchalance. “Maybe the bond isn’t that strong?”

Isak bites his lip.

“Sometimes one partner is more sensitive to the effects,” the doctor says, smiling at Even. Her gaze is still assessing, though—enough to have Even still on edge. “Do you find it easy to close the bond?”

“I never close it,” Even says, shrugging. “Neither of us do.”

Except… well, that isn’t true. At all.

“Isak?” She asks, and now he shrugs, too.

“I close it sometimes,” he says, a little afraid to look Even in the eye. “Is that bad?”

“No,” she says, as Even radiates confusion. “It’s perfectly healthy, to close the bond when you need space, as long as it’s not too regular at this stage.”

“It’s not all the time,” Isak adds. “Just to give us more privacy.”

Even’s _why?_ Comes through loud and clear, and Isak waves it away.

 _When?_ Even tries instead, and Isak does the mental equivalent of an eye roll.

 _I didn’t know,_ Even tells him, his uncertainty filling Isak’s chest. _I thought we were trying this out?_

Isak scrubs a hand over his face, then looks Even in the eye.

Just because they were trying, didn’t meant they shouldn’t have some space from each other. Most healthy bondmates kept the bond closed at least some of the time.

Isak hadn’t really thought about whether Even knew when the bond was closed or not—he’d mostly assumed Even felt it, when things went silent on Isak’s end. But maybe Even was caught up in his own thoughts, or maybe he just assumed that Isak wasn’t thinking or feeling much that was coming through all that strong.

Isak knows a lot about bond science, but that isn’t the same as knowing what to do, or how to deal with this situation.

“Isak?”

He glances up, and the enosi-psycheologist is holding some wires in her hands.

Isak has missed at least five minutes of explanation, but the electrods are self-explanatory enough.

Next to him, Even is a jumble of mixed emotions.

“Come to this side of the curtain, please,” she says, and Isak goes, ignoring the unease Even radiates.

“Alright,” she says, as Isak sits up on the big chair.

It’s like something out of a movie.

“Do you mind if I touch you?”

“I don’t mind,” Isak says, but he’s lying, and Even knows it.

She’s the first person to touch him since the bond, and he panics for a moment, before he sees that she’s pulling on plastic gloves, a wan smile on her face.

“Just to be sure,” she says, and then she wheels the psycheogram in. Isak has never seen one before, but Even blanches,  _like an EEG_ coming through with a twinge of an unhappy memory.

The psycheogram is harmless, and yet Even stiffens like it’s some medieval torture device once it comes into view. He knows it won’t hurt—Isak gets that much. He doesn’t quite get where Even’s discomfort comes from. But he really hates it, and Isak can feel the tension coming off him in waves.

 _It’s okay_ , Isak projects, pushing as much of his calm as he can Even’s way, but even after his efforts, Even is still tense, fingers curled into his palms until the crescents of his nails make little marks.

He stays that way through the readings, and until the machine is wheeled away again.

He doesn’t speak, and his thoughts are too muddled and heavy for Isak to want to follow, so he retreats while he can, and draws the doctor’s attention.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, watching her load the readings on her computer screen.

“Everything looks normal,” she says. “Activity’s good, if a bit less than expected.”

“We’ve been trying,” Even says, and Isak swallows hard at the way his voice trembles, a little.

“Is there anything we should be doing?” Isak asks, reaching out again.

His mind presses against Even’s, and Even lets Isak surround him with his determination, his hopes, his comfort.

“Just get to know each other,” the doctor says, her voice kind. “Share each other’s interests. The more you work with the bond, the better you’ll feel.”

“Will it speed up the process?” Even asks, and she purses her lips, a little more businesslike.

“It’s hard to say. But see how it goes. You might be ready to spend some time apart in a few days; that’ll be the real test.”

Isak nods, suddenly exhausted, and gets to his feet.

It’s not until they’ve said their goodbyes and are halfway out of the door that she stops them.

“Even,” she says, voice soft. “You should work on closing the bond. Everyone needs a break every now and then.”

 But Even is already striding into the hallway, mind buzzing, eager to step out into the snow.

-

Although Isak expects to, they don’t talk about the appointment when they get back to the kollektiv, instead faceplanting onto Isak’s bed in a tangle of limbs and falling into a long nap that leaves them both groggy. When they awake, they aren’t good for much more than snapping at each other and eating leftover pizza before getting back under the covers, starting with a pillow between them but eventually migrating closer, so that when Isak wakes, Even is all around him like a furnace, making him sweat in his hoodie.

They spend the next two days in a bubble, phones off and minds open.

Sharing each other’s interests. Whatever that means.

It mostly means that they play video games, and Isak learns that Even’s laugh goes all the way down to his abdomen, deep and warm.

It means that Even talks about his friends, and Isak talks about the boys and Eskild and Linn, and Even makes a hideously embarrassing hipster video for Isak’s Instagram that Isak deletes within minutes of its inception but it gets a hundred likes with alarming speed.

It means that Isak tries to tell Even about N.W.A. and gets schooled on Nas, and then Even goads him into admitting he loves I’m Yours before he teases him for loving one of the most “propagandistic soulbond songs in the history of the world.”

He says it all with a smile on his face, so Isak can’t bring himself to mind.

It’s strange, because if Isak didn’t remember their beginnings, he’d think that things were going really well. As it is, it’s still hard to trust that Even is genuinely trying, and not just playing at it, no matter how much Isak pokes at his mind, looking for insincerity. 

He finds nothing.

‘Sharing each other’s interests’ apparently also translates into watching Even’s favourite movie. This time it’s easier, no need to convince Even to lie with him on Isak’s bed as a riot of colour unfolds onscreen.

Isak tries not to get caught up in it, but he does, gasping along as the heroine is swept off her feet by a man in leather gloves, and they fuse their lips together desperately underwater.

“Thou mayst not have my soul,” Juliet cries, “but take this heart.”

Even mouths the words along with her, and Isak can’t help but think its cute, despite the fact that he personally finds it cheesy as fuck. As the movie wears on, though, he can’t escape the waves of emotion that run him.

At first, he thinks it’s just Even, having a dorkily strong reaction to his favourite movie. But then he realizes it’s his own—Mercutio dies, and Romeo and Juliet have nobody in the world but each other because they love each other so fucking much that nothing else even matters.

Just one look at each other and bam, they’re all in, and it’s so fucking stupid because they’re teenagers and Romeo is bonded to Rosaline and yet they still believe they’re destined for each other and the world is going to fuck them over.

“Why do you like this movie so much?” Isak asks, heart in his throat.

Even smiles—and Isak likes it, likes the way he feels it as much as sees it.

“Because they sacrifice everything to be together,” Even says. “Even though everyone tells them it isn’t worth it.”

“Isn’t that sad, though?” Isak asks, but he knows the answer before he says it.

 _It’s love_ , Even thinks, and on screen, Juliet awakes to find Romeo cold beside her, and she weeps.

 _It’s a tragedy_ , Isak thinks, and Even shrugs, unthinkingly drawing Isak closer to him.

 _That’s what makes it so beautiful_.

-

 

They don’t talk 24/7.

The next day, Even goes back to his computer, and Isak sits up at the dining table as he finally tackles the notes from Sana, sending her a bunch of follow-up questions for every time they don’t quite match the textbook.

It’s not that he thinks Sana’s wrong, but Nipples isn’t the best teacher in the world, and he and Sana both have long since agreed she needs fact-checking. Sometimes a lot of fact-checking.

 **Isak**  
Thanks for the notes Sanasol.

 **Sana**  
You’re welcome, Isobel.  
Hope my idiot brother didn’t lose any.

  **Isak**  
All looks okay 

 **Sana**  
Okay?  
You mean fantastic.

 **Isak**  
Lol

Hey, Sana?  
Do people know about me? 

 **Sana**  
There are some rumours.  
But everyone is happy for you. 

 **Isak**  
Sure? 

 **Sana**  
If anyone says otherwise, they know where to find me. 

Isak can’t help but smile, imagining Sana’s face as she wrote that. She’s a good friend, despite their rocky start.

He’s just debating which meme to send in response—how to perfectly convey coolness and gratitude in one vintage gif?—when she sends him a link.

Curious, Isak opens it, smiling when he reads the title. It’s an article, recently published in one of the big American “intellectual” magazines, that seems to be mostly summarizing  a controversial study they’ve been talking about recently, although the study itself hasn’t been published yet.

Sana and he have disagreed on a lot of things, but one thing they’ve found in common is science and theories. Sana doesn’t quite get his fascination with bonding, but she’s one of the only people in his life he can talk about it with on that level.

If Sana wanted to distract him from his fears, she has found the perfect way to to it.

**_The Misunderstood Science of Soulbonding_ **

_As citizens of the 21 st century, we should once and for all renounce the odd notion that the soul exists independently of the body. In fact, doing away with the term ‘soul’ altogether would be beneficial to stepping away from an outdated, scripture-based theory of consciousness and consciousness transference, into the modern scientific age. A recent study has identified the part of the brain triggered by initial bond contact (IBC) and seeks to replicate this triggering through the creation of synthetic stimuli, making individuals more receptive to IBC. Scientists at the Carravelo Center for Enosi-Psycheology believe that with these stimuli, more than 80% of the population could bond._

_Some theorists suggest that everyone in the world has multiple compatible partners out there. That’s why there are higher percentages of people bonded now than there ever were, now that technology has advanced enough for people to travel. In cities with high population densities, as many as 1 in 3 people have a bond. Cultural practices such as the wearing of gloves have also prevailed in preventing couplings, adding to the myth that soulbonds are rare, or that two partners who enter into one are somehow destined for each other. In more liberal countries, where these traditions have been abandoned, bonding percentages are also higher._

“What are you reading?”

Isak startles, caught out.

Even sits opposite him at the table, a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. There’s another mug at Isak’s side—what looks like hot chocolate. He eyes it suspiciously.

“It’s chill, Isak,” Even says, smiling. “I know you’re interested in this stuff.” 

Well, obviously. He just didn’t expect Even to want to hear about it.

“It’s just an article,” he tries, but Even sips from his coffee all calm and collected, smiling at Isak like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

“It’s weird listening to you read. It’s like… hearing a phone call in another room, or something?”

Isak remembers, of course, what it was like to hang out while Even worked on his film.

“Like... I only get the bits you’re really consciously thinking about,” Even adds, and Isak wrinkles his nose.

“Yeah. It’s weird.”

He looks back at his screen, wondering whether it’s a hint to stop, but Even doesn’t feel annoyed. Just lazily curious, warm and cozy with his coffee and his socked feet.

“Read it to me?” Even asks, a smile playing at his mouth. “Out loud?”

Isak has no idea what his game is.

_It’s not a game._

“I have to learn this stuff, don’t I?” Even says out loud, and Isak shrugs.

Isak supposes this counts as trying. Trying to understand what they’ve stumbled into, and how that works. Isak has read everything he can get his hands on.

“Even the term “soulbond” implies something otherworldly, or magical, in what is actually an explainable chemical process,” Isak reads. He doesn’t bother being self-conscious about his English. It makes it easier, somehow, to read it dispassionately in a foreign tongue.

“With recent cases reported of second soulbonds,” he looks at Even, but Even’s face doesn’t change, “being established after the early passing of a first partner, researchers have sought to investigate the phenomenon from a scientific point of view. _”_

Even hums, thoughtfully, then clears his throat.

“Is that really possible? The part about second soulmates?”

Isak shrugs, but his mind whirs.

Theoretically, no. What people call a bond is actually the mutual triggering of the amatory gland by contact with compatible pheromones. All studies suggest that without a living complementary partner, the soul—that is, the part of the brain that turns consciousness into chemicals and vice versa—remains in its triggered state. It is especially calibrated to its complement; like a radio forever stuck on one station.

 _Fucking hell_. Even is grudgingly impressed by the science. But—

“If all that’s true,” Even said. “That would mean there’s more than one person out there we’re compatible with?”

That’s half the point of the study, actually. To disprove the idea of One True Soulmate.

Isak shrugs again, and Even furrows his brow.

He accepts it, but it rattles him, and Isak doesn’t really know why. But he doesn’t understand a lot, when it comes to Even. It’s nothing new.

“Do you want me to keep reading?” Isak asks, awkwardly. “The rest is… a lot of science.”

He doesn’t want to keep reading. He suddenly has the urge to ask questions. Like why Even is suddenly so seemingly chill. Like why Even wasn’t wearing gloves.

Even nods, but then Isak’s phone rings, startling them both.

He fishes it out of his pocket, and sighs, and that’s the moment gone. 

 **Eskild**  
I’m coming home tomorrow  
I’ll stay out of your hair I promise  
Can’t wait to meet your handsome boy  
Yay!

Even stands. He doesn’t have to say anything for Isak to know the bubble has been broken, but he smiles, and Isak feels the trembling embers of hope in his belly leap and flicker, warming him through.

-

Even is standing in a garden of thorns, blinded prince, groping with a rusty sword for the entrance to the tower.

Above, Isak screams, because the tower is aflame, but Even climbs and climbs, and when he reaches the top, he pulls Even inside with a heavy tug and kisses him and kisses him until Even pulls away, grimacing.

“You’re not the princess,” Even says. “You’re the dragon,” and his sword plunges into Isak’s chest until he is lying face up on a casket covered in roses, Even by his side, poison dripping from his lips.

Isak cannot remember the words, though he kisses Even again, sucking the poison out until his whole body turns black and blue, and then Even blinks open his eyes and looks at him and asks “is this your dream or mine?” clear as a knell, and in an an instant he jolts awake to the sound of a phone ringing, shrill and angry on Isak’s bedside table.

Even doesn’t pick up.

-

The phone rings all day, and Even still doesn’t answer, but the mood changes.

They lie in bed together all morning, a lethargy seeming to settle over the room, and Even tosses and turns, but Isak doesn’t know why.

When he gets up to go to the bathroom, he takes his phone with him, and Isak sees only a row of missed calls from his friends, his mother, Sonja, before Even shoves it into his jeans and mutters something about bad signal.

Isak tries to lighten the mood with stories about Magnus’s bad luck in love, but they don’t seem to work.

Sadness is something Isak is not unfamiliar with, but this is a special kind. It’s wistful, longing—the kind of low Isak can’t quite put his finger on. It feels a little like missing someone, without the loneliness. It’s a complicated tangle that sits heavily on Isak’s chest, no matter how he tries not to absorb it, like a storm threatening above their heads.

It takes all day for the clouds to break. Even cuts Isak off mid-cathooker explanation as his phone rings again, and he pulls it out of his pocket with a frustrated noise.

“It’s Sonja.”

Isak isn’t surprised. He isn’t sure if he should pretend he is. He’s mostly just not sure why Even isn’t picking up.

“I need to talk to her, I think.”

“Okay.” He’s expecting Even to answer her phone call, maybe ask him to turn up the music again. Or just block the bond for the call, now that Even knows he’s happy to do that.

“I won’t be gone long,” Even says. “Half an hour, maybe.”

 _You’re leaving?_  Isak can’t hold back the spike of alarm, and Even’s mouth twists.

“Yeah. It’s been two weeks, nearly,” he says. “And we’ve tried really hard the last few days, so.”

Right. Isak’s stomach sinks, trying not to think about what Even means by that.

But—leaving. This will be the first time they’ve put distance between them since they bonded. Isak can’t act like he doesn’t have doubts.

What if the bond isn’t ready to stretch that far? What if they set themselves back?

“I need to explain,” Even says, mouth set in a firm line. “If we’re really trying this, I need to tell her.”

But beneath his expression, there’s something soft, too. A part of him that acknowledges Isak’s questions.

 _I’ll come back if I need to_ , he reassures Isak.  _If the hunger thing gets too much._

Isak doesn’t say anything to that—because what is there to say?

Even’s sadness says volumes, as it is.

“Eskild will be here soon,” Isak tries, clearing his throat. “That’ll be nice to distract me.”

_None of this changes the way I feel about her. That doesn’t just go away._

Even doesn’t need to explain, and—fuck, it isn’t fun to hear it.

Isak doesn’t even know if it’s a conscious projection, but he knows that already, because it’s part of the whole problem with their situation. Sonja, and Even’s feelings for Sonja, are part of this mess they’re in whether Isak likes it or not… because Even loves her. Isak can feel it, and it frightens him and entices him all at once, feeling how Even feels for her.

He’s never had anything like Even has with Sonja.

Isak’s first kiss was when he was thirteen, with Sara. They’d touched, once or twice, when they were kids, and then suddenly they were at Grefsen together and people had started talking about soulbonds more. Everyone was talking about boyfriends and girlfriends and their parents were getting strict about gloves, and it seemed like everybody was pairing off with someone they knew was safe. Practicing for the real thing, in case it ever came their way.

The day Jonas and Ingrid got together, Sara had screwed up her nose, disdainful even then, and told Isak she wasn’t going to bond until she was at least 25 and successful. Seconds later, she leaned over and kissed him square on the mouth anyway.

“There,” she’d said, before leaning in to do it again. “It’s fun to kiss, isn’t it?”

Perhaps it would have been, had she been a boy. Had she been Jonas—and that crush had been horrible, knowing as he did that Jonas had Eva, loved Eva—it might have been different. It wasn’t different with Amalie, or Sigrid, or Emma, as much as he tried to pretend it was, and apart from Even, he has barely so much as hugged another man.

All Isak has ever managed to get from another person is companionship. Fleeting, shallow companionship. As much as he has always hoped for more.  

He shakes his head. Honestly, he understands why Even would want to talk to Sonja, now they’re trying this for real.

There’s a lot of things he knows must be hard for her, and that Even must miss her, and that they probably need to take a break or set some boundaries or something…

And yet Isak wishes he could just say it:  _please don’t go_. 

-

It’s 16:03.

Time moves at a glacial pace, in which Eskild doesn’t call and Even gets further and further away, while Isak feels every metre like a tug at his heartstrings.

It’s tiring, being without Even. Fifteen minutes after he leaves, Isak begins to regret that this is their first separation, because it’s shitty. They should have started slower; he should have argued for Even to stay. He had forgotten what bond hunger felt like, almost, but he wonders if this is worse than before.

Not only is Even far away, but Isak has closed the door.

His mind reaches out for Even’s, but hesitates. Before he left, Isak promised him he won’t listen. And he wants to honour that, because he doesn’t want to lie to Even, and also because Sonja and Even make him miserable to think about, but that’s beside the point.

He keeps his promise and keeps his promise and keeps the fucking promise and then—

It hurts too much, and Isak gives in, just for a moment, to catch his breath. It starts with a shiver down his arms, the ghost of a touch. And then Isak’s hands start to shake with nerves, and then there is relief.

The bond is wide open, and—for a moment—Isak closes his eyes, hungry to bridge the gap. 

 _Sonja,_  Even’s whole being sighs, and Isak’s eyes jolt wide open at the roaring rush of feeling, raw in his chest.

His lips sting with a kiss that lingers too long, but when he tries, he cannot retreat. He tries, but the pain is impossible to bear, and he resists it on instinct, even as he knows he shouldn’t. The stinging sharpness of the headache behind his eyes, the churning nausea of his gut—he presses closer to Even, and closer, staving it off as best he can. He just needs another moment.

But Even seems not to notice.

Even lets Sonja kiss him, and her ungloved hands trail over his neck, tugging at the hoodie Even has over his head to hide his fluffy hair.  _Isak’s hoodie_ , which Even had pulled from the laundy basket without comment and donned like it were his own.

Sonja’s hands burn a trail down Even’s stomach—Isak’s stomach—and under his belly, deft fingers undoing the buttons of his jeans. Even doesn’t seem to notice the pain—or perhaps his threshold is higher than Isak’s, or perhaps this pain is Isak’s alone to bear—because inside Even is a deep well of joy that is being uncovered, and the feeling of it mixes uncomfortably with Isak’s sickness. 

 _Sonja_ , Even says, and there’s some hesitation, but then— _Sonja, Sonja, love you_ —there is warmth and wetness and Isak could shout, because it is too much, and when he looks down his own dick is half hard in his underwear but he hates hates hates himself, wishes this wasn’t happening. All at once he realizes how much he envies Sonja, how cruel it is to bear witness to this thing he’ll never have.

He cannot bear it, and he curls in on himself, self-loathing and anger making him want to lash out. He doesn’t know why Even is doing this, but the message seems clear.

_He will always love Sonja. He will always choose Sonja._

With one last wrench, Isak closes the door, groaning as the pain returns full force. 

And then, just like one of Even’s movies, everything fades to black.

 


	5. maccern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I asked her for a break,” Even says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you a billion times to H and Tina for the betaing and advice, and to Immy for encouraging me to be a parody of myself. Love you.

Isak drifts in and out of consciousness.

Even is spooned against him, their shirts both off, all of the naked skin of his torso pressed to the skin of Isak’s back.

Even is resting his fingertips over Isak’s ribcage, whispering Isak’s name inside his head like a benediction.

Even is talking to somebody at the door, telling them to go, that this is on him, that he’s fixing it.

Even is everywhere.

Isak closes his eyes, and tries to remember how to breathe.

-

The next time Isak wakes up, the room is dark, and Even has let go of him. He hasn’t gone far--just perched on the side of the bed, his discomfort radiating off of him like a beacon. Isak can just about make out two shadowy figures standing over him, arms crossed as they converse in hushed tones.

“What is wrong with you?” The first voice says, and Isak squeezes his eyes shut, because he wants no part in this. He’s never heard Jonas sound so quietly vicious.

“I let you rest because he needed it,” the second voice threatens. “But you better have a damn good explanation for letting him get like this.”

Isak swallows.

Eskild. Thank god.

“I didn’t know,” Even murmurs, guilt seeping from him like an angry wound. “I really didn’t know.”

“Bullshit,” Jonas spits, and Even flinches. “How long has this been going on?”

“What?” In fairness to Even, Jonas hasn’t exactly been clear.

But-- “Don’t play dumb, pretty boy,” Eskild adds, a sweetness in his tone that isn’t matched by his body language.

“You don’t just pass out after half an hour of separation. Not with the bond open.” Jonas says. Slowly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

It isn’t, to Even.

“I--I asked him if we could keep it closed.” Even stumbles, and Jonas’s reply is lightning quick.

“For your first time apart? Really smart.”

“And he was okay with that?” Eskild asks, voice cool.

Isak wasn’t. But had he said so?

“He said he was.” Even says, and Isak feels a gentle nudge at the bond, apologetic.

 _I know you’re awake,_ it seems to say, but Isak refuses to open his eyes. He can’t face this just yet.

“But did he feel like he was?” Jonas urges, persistent in his inquisition.

“I don’t know,” Even finally says, hanging his head. “I couldn’t feel anything.”

“So he was closing the bond off already?” Eskild asks, and Isak feels a sneaking flicker of foreboding, unsure who it comes from.

“Fuck, I don’t know, okay?” Even bursts out. “He said he’d close it.”

Eskild and Jonas hold their breaths, as if waiting for Isak to stir. He keeps still.

“If you wake him up, they won’t find your body”, Eskild says, and Isak bites his lip, as love and embarrassment swell up in him.

“Why him?” Jonas asks, quiet again now.

“What?”

“If you wanted it closed, it should have been you doing it,” Jonas says, and--yeah, that’s a fair point. Even doesn’t like to hear it, apparently.

“I don’t--I’m not good at it,” Even tries, and Isak bites his lip.

“Serious?” Eskild scoffs.

“Do you have any idea how exhausted he must be to pass out like this?” Jonas asks, and Isak can practically see the earnest expression on his best friend’s face. “How much effort it takes to close the link?”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Even says, and he sounds wobbly now, his chest tightening enough that it makes Isak want to gasp. It hurts. “And I never wanted to hurt him, I just--”

“Guys?”

Isak doesn’t want to hear Even’s side of it like this. Because he knows--really, he knows that Even didn’t set out to hurt him. Even just didn’t think about him, horrible as that is.

He speaks, and all three heads turn to face him.

“Fuck,” Jonas says, “You’re awake.”

“How are you feeling, baby Jesus?” Eskild comes closer. He wrings his hands, concern colouring his face.

“I’m okay,” Isak says, and shakes his head when Eskild makes to contradict him. “What the hell happened?”

For a moment, silence. Then--

“I came back and you were passed out on the floor, with no bondmate in sight,” Eskild says, shooting Even a scathing look. “So I called Jonas, and we waited for Even to come back.”

Even hangs his head again, and Isak looks at him.

Really looks at him--pressing his mind against Even’s for a second until Even meets his eyes unhappily.

“Can I just… talk to Even?”

From the looks Jonas and Eskild exchange, it seems like the last thing they want is to leave the room.

“Are you sure you want us to leave you--?” Jonas starts, and Isak rolls his eyes.

“I’m fine. I can fight my own battles.”

“You don’t have to face it alone,” Eskild says, voice soft. “If you need us--”

“Thanks,” Isak says, and he means it. “But this is between me and Even.”

-

The funny thing--or not funny, depending on where you’re standing--is that once they leave, Isak has no idea what to say. He doesn’t even really know what happened. Like: fainting, yes. That happened. Bond hunger: also a thing. Even and Sonja--yes, but then what?

“How are you feeling?” Even asks, sounding for all the world like a concerned parent. Isak picks at the skin around his fingernails, just because he knows Even hates it.

“Can’t you tell?” He asks, then looks up. “Seriously. How do I feel?”

Even grits his teeth, but pushes, tentative, into Isak’s mind. Now more than ever, it feels like an intrusion.

“Tired,” he says softly. “Angry.”

Isak winces, and Even shuffles closer to him on the bed.

“Should I call the doctor? Does your head still hurt?”

Isak shakes his head.

“We can’t call her, Even. That’ll ruin your whole plan.”

“The plan isn’t important right now,” Even says seriously. “If you need a doctor--”

“I don’t.”

And the plan _is_ important.

 _Okay_. Even holds up his hands, cautious, now, and Isak grits his teeth.

“Well, we’re not going to fall in love, are we?” He’s resigned to it, now. “We need her to sign off on the treatment.”

He doesn’t think it will be news, but Even projects shock.

“Wait, what?”

“ _What_ , what?”

“What are you saying?” Even asks, furrowing his brow. “Do you not want to try, now?”

“It’s fine,” Isak says. “Let’s just let it go.”

_Isak._

Isak expects him to be happy, and he isn’t. Even is angry now.

But who is Isak kidding? He was never going to convince Even. Even isn’t made for him; they’re not _soulmates_. They don’t even like each other.

“I like you,” Even says, sounding strained. “I do.”

“Only because we’re bonded,” Isak says.

“Maybe,” Even says. “But why are you saying this? What’s changed?”

“I did,” Isak lies, but not well enough. 

Even sets his jaw, and pushes.

Isak, too tired to fight, lets him in.

Even finds Isak’s humiliation easily enough, tugs at it until it leads him down into a hard place, and Isak flushes as Even sees everything in glorious technicolour. Isak alone on his bed, clutching his covers at the feel of Sonja touching Even, of Even touching her--the way it burned, beautiful but awful and how it trapped him in its depths and Isak was never ever going to feel love like that ever in his life, because--

Isak pushes Even out even though it makes him dizzy.

And Even reaches back again, his mind soft and warm and soothing, in spite of his turbulent emotions.

 _Isak_. Even’s face is ashen. _You felt it? With Sonja?_

“You didn’t know?” Isak says out loud, then shakes his head, the bitterness unavoidable.

_Were you hoping I’d pass out before you came?_

“I asked her for a break,” Even says. “Nothing happened. You need to…”

He can’t finish his sentence. Isak doesn’t know what he needs to.

Even grits his teeth, and then closes his eyes.

Isak sees it clearly, and it all falls into place.

How Even had surrendered into it as Sonja kissed him, let himself have it one last time. How it had felt strange and wrong, and that had made him angry, because he had loved Sonja since he was 15 years old, and the bond was taking that away from him. Being with Sonja had been safe, familiar. She made him laugh, and she stuck by him even when he hurt her, and she chose to be with him even when he gave her reasons not to.

They’d been together for so long--and broken up so many times--that he couldn’t imagine ever not loving her.

But even as her mouth swallowed him up, as he looked at her familiar head, all he could think about was that this would be the last time. His head was beginning to ache, his skin starting to crawl, like he was covered in insects whispering _wrong wrong wrong_ as they ate away at him.

He pushed Sonja off, and in a moment of clarity, remembered how much he had loved her.

Isak is a masochist.

“Don’t,” Even says, as Isak tugs on the thought.

Even has his first time with Sonja at fifteen, the two of them awkward and fumbling, and they don’t talk about it for days afterwards until one night they start kissing and wind up doing it again, breathless and pleased when it isn’t horribly awkward.

Even spends his russ time fighting with Sonja and falling back into bed with her at the end of each party even though they’d given each other space, said they could experience russ with no strings or commitments, and his friends tease him but it makes him feel safe, to have someone to go back to when the chaos is all over.

Even tries to kiss Mikael and Mikael recoils in shock but when Sonja hears she doesn’t break up with him, or cry, and when he wakes up in the hospital she’s still there at his side.

Sonja sees Even at his worst and she still chooses to stay. Sonja loves Even although he doesn’t deserve it. Sonja—

“You can’t shut me out, can you?” Isak asks, and Even sighs, thoughts of Sonja receding into nothingness.

_You know I can’t._

_You did once._ Isak remembers the first time all too well.

 _I don’t know how I did that._ Even admits, and Isak nods.

He thinks he already knew.

It’s something they’ll have to work on to get through the month. Isak can keep closing the door-

 _You can’t_ , Even is firm. _We’re not doing that_

And Isak swallows hard.

 _I didn’t know how much you were keeping back_ , Even admits. _Until you woke up this morning and suddenly it was wide open._

Isak didn’t know, either.

Despite the lingering headache, it’s like a weight has been lifted. All the little fences he had built have been kicked through and splintered, the doors inside of doors inside of doors that protected him blasted open. He has been holding so much of himself back from Even, trying not to be too much, to push him further away and make him hate the bond any more than he already does.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck with me,” Even says, out of nowhere, and Isak shakes his head.

They both have tears in their eyes, and he isn’t quite sure how to go forwards. All of this is a lot, and he’s not sure he can be having this conversation anymore. Or that Even can--pulse racing, dry throat, urge to cry cresting like a great wave of frustration and despair.

 _Me too,_ he thinks, then closes his eyes, pulls Even into an embrace.

-

Dinner is an awkward affair. Or whatever you call it when you eat at 4pm after sleeping through the day.

When Isak and Even emerge from Isak’s room, it’s to Eskild’s faux-pleasant threats and the smell of fresh-delivered pizza.

“Are you good?” Jonas says as they trudge out, and Isak could laugh at the building tension as Even waits for his reply--except that it’s not really funny, just sad.

“Yeah,” he says anyway, hoping to dispel the heaviness in the room. “It’s chill.”

At the dinner table, Jonas scooches his chair close to Isak’s, his hand casually brushing Isak’s as he passes plates and slices and a piece of kitchen roll in substitute for a serviette.

It’s uncomfortable to Isak, but Even flinches hard at every touch of skin to skin until Isak finally swats Jonas’s hand away, rolling his eyes.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Jonas asks, not even trying to sound innocent.

“No, I deserve it,” Even says to Jonas, and Isak feels his conviction. “I didn’t know it felt like this.”

“Serious?” Jonas asks, for a second sounding more curious than angry.

“I never felt like this until yesterday,” Even says, “I thought it was something I was doing.”

“We know what you were doing,” Eskild mutters, pursing his lips.

But Even is remembering, and Isak doesn’t have the context for it. The sudden burn of hands on his arms, gripping tight as they shook him, hands on his face as they scorched his cheeks.

“What happened yesterday?” Isak asks, looking between Even and Eskild. Even avoids Eskild’s gaze.

“I touched you,” Eskild says, not sounding at all sorry. “You were on the floor, and I was trying to wake you up. I didn’t know you’d still be at this stage in the bond, or I wouldn’t have.”

Oh. Even more awkward.

Isak honestly doesn’t give a shit about Eskild touching him, although it makes Even’s seeming change of heart make a lot more sense.

“It’s okay,” Even starts, and Eskild waves a hand dismissively. Isak can tell that the next thing that comes out of his mouth won’t help, and he’s had enough

“Can we just eat?” He says at last, and doesn’t miss the pleased look on Jonas’s face. “Fucking hell.”

There’s silence for a moment, then Eskild smiles, too.

“Back to your grumpy self,” he says dramatically. “Well, I suppose we should be glad.”

He’s genuinely relieved, though. Isak knows Eskild well enough by now to see that.

\--

They eat the rest of the pizza in silence, and Isak finally convinces Jonas to leave an hour later, promising to text him updates.

Eskild gives them both a stern look as they slink back to Isak’s room, grateful.

On the bed, they lie just a few centimetres apart, staring up at the ceiling for what seems like an eternity. Isak wishes he could go back to sleep, but even with the exhaustion of the night before, it eludes him.

The feedback is too much. Even’s emotional landscape is a wild one, the goddamn garden of thorns, and Isak’s an ocean without a floor. Even visualizes them this way, Isak realizes, because those aren’t his thoughts, not things he would have imagined for himself.

To Isak the bond is a door between two houses, his secrets a locked box in an attic room.

To Even it is the hero’s journey, a place where dark forest finally meets calm sea.

There is a reason Even cannot close the door, and Isak doesn't know how to say it.

-

The thing about lying there, the silence, is that Isak has had enough of it to last a lifetime. By the second hour, his hands ball into fists. By the third, the cabin fever has truly set in, the air feeling stale and recycled, the warmth of it making him sweat.

There’s something about the idea of spending another hour in that room together that makes Isak want to rage.

“Let’s go somewhere,” Even finally says, just as Isak feels ready to explode.

Even bounces upright and Isak turns to him incredulously.

All that, and Even suddenly wants an adventure?

“Come on, get your shoes,” Even says, eyes challenging. Isak groans, mostly for the sake of it, because he can already feel a spark of excitement building.

“Seriously? It’s night time.”

The clock on his phone reads 21:21. Isak tries not to take that as a sign.

But Even doesn’t answer, too busy pulling Isak’s clothes over his head like he owns them, gathering up winter things in his arms like they’re trekking to Siberia.

Isak doesn’t know if he’s supposed to just trust him, like all is forgotten, but he needs to get out. Needs to feel the real world again, remember his place in it, get some goddamn perspective on the past 24 hours.

If he can’t do it without Even right now, then this is his next best option.

“Fine,” he says. “Where are we going?”

\--

Outside, the world feels still. Like it’s been waiting for him to emerge and face it again.

The chill of the air surprises Isak, even though he’s bracing for it. He hasn’t been outside since their last appointment with the enosi-psycheologist, and it’s snowed a lot, since--is snowing now, even, the tiny snowflakes gentle as they hit his cheeks.

Even hands him the scarf in his hands without question, and Isak rolls his eyes.

It’s quiet on the street, which is less surprising, although Isak has to discreetly check his phone to remind himself what day it is.

Friday. The days blend together, lately. His whole universe has been narrowed down to a single person, a single room.

This feels better. Like his soul finally has room to breathe.

“Where are we?” He asks, taking in the building they’re outside of.

Even lets them in the door, then, and Isak gets some idea.

“You’ll see.”

Even leads them into an apartment that feels strangely familiar. Art on the walls, shoes on the floor, coats on the hooks--it’s a family place, Isak knows, but more than that. It’s Even’s. It feels like _home_.

“This is your place?” Isak looks around. “Is anybody here?”

“No,” Even says, shrugging. He takes off his shoes, and Isak follows on autopilot, down the hallway and into what he guesses is Even’s room just from the smell of it.

“This is where you wanted to bring me?” Isak asks, and Even laughs, then.

“No. I had to pick up more clothes.”

Oh.

Isak leaves him to rummage through his drawers, looking instead at Even’s bedroom walls.

There are memes, quotes, scribbles everywhere--and between them, there are drawings. One real sketch of a young girl who could easily be Sana. A series of cartoons that Isak can’t help but laugh at.

“You drew these?” He asks, when he feels Even’s cautious nudge at his mind. _They’re really funny._

Even turns to face him. Isak doesn’t know if it’s the first time he’s complimented Even, but Even doesn’t seem to know how to react, something shy and pleased lingering between them.

Isak focuses instead on the backpack in Even’s arms, zipped full of stuff.

“Did you get everything?” he asks, and Even nods, pulling himself back together. A moment later, his expression turns devious.

“I also found this,” he says, pulling a perfectly rolled joint from his pocket. Isak’s impulse is to grin.

_Yes._

A joint might be exactly what they need, Isak thinks. Just to be able to chill out and get high and not be so fucking angst-ridden for one night--

“You wanna?” Even asks, and Isak is all ready to agree. Sign him the fuck up. And yet--

Isak feels clearer, tonight, than he has since the bond happened. More like there’s hope.

Maybe they should try to do this, whatever it is, without jay for a buffer.

“We’ll save it,” Even says, trying for a truly terrible wink that startles a laugh out of Isak. His other eye twitches, making it look more like a spasm than something sexy or suave, and before Isak knows it, Even is laughing along, too, and there is hope, hope, hope.

“Let’s get out of here,” Even says with a smile. “We’ve got places to go.”

\--

When Even had asked him to follow, Isak had thought they would end up somewhere meaningful. Some special place from Even’s life, or some spot that they could call their own.

Instead, they end up at the McDonalds on Thorvald Meyers gate, the two of them huddled into the back corner, far from anyone else. Isak can’t help but feel relieved at the normalcy of it: the uncomfortable plastic booth, the rustle of the brown paper bag.

Not normal, on the other hand, is Even inhaling salty french fries and milkshake. Isak grimaces as Even swallows it down enthusiastically, even dipping a fry in the frozen chocolate.

 _That’s disgusting_ , he projects, even as he feels Even’s enjoyment radiating off of him. Even dips again then offers the fry out for him to try--and Isak tries it, if only because he can tell it tastes good to Even--but Isak grimaces the second it hits his tongue.

Chocolate and potato. What the fuck.

“We kind of got off on the wrong foot,” Even says, after Isak is done appeasing his poor tastebuds with a shitload of ketchup.

 _No shit_.

Isak licks his fingers, then raises an eyebrow as Even’s eyes track the movement.

“I was thinking,” Even begins, not looking half as nervous as he feels, “about what we would do if we just... met at that party, and decided to hang out.”

Isak doesn’t think about that at all.

If they hadn’t bonded, he may never have seen Even again.

“What do you think would have happened?” Even asks, and Isak shrugs.

“I don’t know.”

_Try._

Even’s serious about this. Isak sighs, putting down his burger.

“I don’t really remember--” Isak starts, but Even raises his eyebrows.

Can’t lie to him. Right.

“You were sitting there between Sonja and Mikael, and I was talking to some girl,” Isak grudgingly recalls. Even wrinkles his nose.

“I remember. She touched you.”

_Hypocrite._

“She touched me, and then I went to the bathroom.”

 _I ran away_.

“And I followed you.”

Which--what? That’s news to Isak, although Even says it ever so casually.

_Really?_

Even is embarrassed by it, apparently.

But... it’s the truth.

“Why did you follow me?” Isak asks, trying not to act like the world has just tilted on its axis.

After everything they’ve gone through, every time Even has wished this hadn’t happened… he would never have imagined Even’s own choices had caused it.

 _Because you were hot_ , Even projects, but it doesn’t feel right. Something else echoes when Isak tugs at the thought, a stream of admissions. _Beautiful, fascinating, couldn’t help myself._

Isak is flooded with his own embarrassment, matching Even’s.

“I noticed you as soon as you got to the party,” Even says out loud, like it’ll make it easier to talk about. Isak looks back at him--the same beautiful boy with the bright eyes and lush mouth he’d spotted across the room.

Bonding utilizes pheromones, which are the determiners of physical attraction. _Theoretically_ it’s not a surprise to hear that Even finds Isak attractive, yet it sends a shiver up Isak’s spine nonetheless.

Lately he’s just been thinking of him as _Even_ , with all that that word encompasses. But whatever attraction there was, Isak had felt it too.

“Huh.”

“Is that surprising?” Even asks, and Isak smiles.

“I guess not.” But now that he knows, there’s something else that bothers him. “What about Sonja?”

“What about her?” Even asks, and Isak raises his eyebrows.

Either Even is being deliberately obtuse, or his relationship is far more complicated than Isak had realized.

“You were there with her,” Isak says slowly. “What were you going to do when you found me?”

_Ask for your name, steal you away, kiss you at midnight._

It rises up unbidden.

Even bites his lip, and, bond wide open, Isak feels everything. The guilt, the regret, the precarious sense that everything had hinged on that moment. Because Even didn’t think that far ahead. Even acted on impulse, because that is who Even is, and he followed his instincts rather than his head.

Isak crumples the paper bag in front of him, wiping the grease from his mouth.

Less than 24 hours ago, he was cursing Even’s entire existence, hating Even and himself and the whole fucking universe. This is too much.

“Do you still have that joint?” Isak asks, reaching out with the bond. He presses against Even’s mind, fleetingly, and almost jumps at the warmth and hope that floods back.

Even nods, remembering the bottom pocket of his backpack, where it safely sits.

“Let’s get out of here,” Isak says with a smile.

He stands, and for a moment, he hopes Even will take his hand.

He’s totally fucked.

 


	6. i kveld

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They come together, and the bond sings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY GOD, I'm sorry this took so long, and that it's a bit... weird. I've been without my mojo, for lack of a better word. I can only hope that being back in the swing of things will make this go more swiftly! (Also I know I know I should've had this betaed I was just desperate to update, sorry.)
> 
> Thank you for your continued love and patience! <3

The night outside is cold and dark, the windows fogged with condensation. In the kitchen, Eskild clatters around with pots and pans, singing to himself as he cooks some ridiculous concoction.

Music plays through Even’s phone, somewhere on the bedroom floor, but Isak can’t quite make out the words.

The door between them is wide open. The smoke blows straight through, thick haze filling Isak down to his toes, until they curl, until he could laugh at how much he feels right now.

Isak has never flown this high before.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been lying like this, passing the joint between their fingers.

Even’s buzz and his own feed off of each other until everything is soft and warm-hued like a scene from _Amelie_ —Even’s thoughts broadcast lazily out, and Isak snatches halfheartedly at them. Here and there he is too slow, and they disappear between his fingers like stardust.

Even follows back, tugging at the threads of each memory Isak has, the way that smoking reminds him of bathtubs and Jonas and Emma’s little cough as she tried to impress him. Isak lets it unravel; lets even wander the rooms of the house of his mind with the doors flung wide and welcoming. Even wants everything.

Wants Isak taking a drag, careful not to touch Elias’s hand outside the cabin, avoiding Jonas’s eyes as he and Eva argued without words. Wants the first time he ever shotgunned, this November, a third year girl brazenly letting her lips brush his to make Emma storm from the room, though they were already on rocky ground.

Wants more--how weed made Jonas wax philosophical but also made him handsy. How Isak had liked it, craved the touch more than he enjoyed the burn in his throat, the first few times, how desperately Isak had wanted--  

Back in the real world, Isak takes a hit and the burn is familiar. The shape of the joint between his lips is a strange comfort.

 _Me too_ , Even thinks, and Isak looks into Even’s blue blue blue eyes, holds them steady. _You and Jonas?_ Even prods, and Isak’s shame rises up within him.

Isak has never admitted it out loud before, but tonight the bond is the absence of secrecy, and it spills out like water. _Yes_ , Jonas. _Yes_ , for a long time.

 _Me too_ , Even echoes, and Isak sees it then--Mikael reeling back as Even’s mouth neared his own, his anger, how it had soured everything between them and yet Even still couldn’t make himself regret it.

 _Still don’t understand_ , Even thinks, sadness colouring the air between them, and Isak doesn’t, either--he thinks about Mikael’s strange looks, and his possessive hands on Even’s shoulders, and it doesn’t feel the same at all, to Isak and Jonas.

 _And Even had Sonja, anyway_ , Isak thinks, but--

 _I’m sorry_ , he says anyway, and Even pulls him closer until they slot together like puzzle pieces, legs tangling in the process, and Even cards his fingers through Isak’s hair so gently that it sends a shiver down his spine, makes him arch into the touch.

Even’s fingers still.

Isak tilts his head, looks at him, asks a question with the jut of his chin.

Even’s eyes drift down to Isak’s mouth, and Isak is vaguely conscious of the gaps between his teeth as he smiles back.

And then Even is leaning in, sighing, pressing his mouth to Isak’s.

It isn’t with intent, or passion--it just… is.

A meeting of upper and lower lip. Soft. Fleeting.

Unexpected.

“What was that?” He asks, as Even rolls away, brings the joint to his mouth for one final pull. It’s the first thing he’s said aloud in hours, and the weed has his tongue sitting heavy in his mouth. He can feel the weight of it all of a sudden, as he trips over himself trying to get the words out.

 _Kiss_ , Even thinks, blinking owlishly up at Isak, then putting out the joint in the coffee cup beside the bed.

 _Why?_ He wonders, though, and Even gracelessly rolls over so that he’s facing Isak.

He nearly rolls the wrong way, but Isak rights him at the last moment, pulls him back.

 _Thought you wanted this_ , Even thinks, eyes wide and red, and fuck, his pupils are dilated. He looks so disheveled and beautiful that Isak nearly forgets the question.

Even frowns then, comical in his current state. _Why_ _are you so far away?_

Isak isn’t that person who thinks getting high will solve everything. Like just because the air is shiny and Even is lovely on Isak’s pillows everything before is erased. It’s not supposed to be that easy, he reminds himself. It’s—

 _You’re very distracting_ , he thinks, as Even comes closer to him, warm and enveloping in his amusement.

 _Kiss_ , Even thinks, and then--

 

\--

 

Three days later, Isak jolts awake to the sound of rain, the memory of that night still fresh in his mind. He could almost imagine it was a dream, for how soft and slow and magical it had felt. Except that it had actually happened, and Isak had the marked up skin to prove it.

Even had kissed him, then, over and over and deep and slow--and he hasn’t kissed him, since, but something between them has changed. When the smoke cleared, everything was different; Even’s smile was softer, Isak’s fears quieter--and for the first time since they bonded, Isak could imagine a future like the one he had always wanted.

Hope is a dangerous thing.

As the days pass, and Isak lets it take up residence in his chest, and Even doesn’t mention the kissing but he doesn’t hesitate to touch Isak now, either--the brush of his hand against Isak’s knee as they play video games, or his fingertips against Isak’s own as he passes him coffee at the kitchen table.

This morning, Isak wakes to Even’s arms wrapped around him, and he wants it so fiercely, for this to be the rest of his life, that he groans low in his chest. He doesn’t even think about it when he wriggles back, pressing himself closer--making Even’s hand grip his hip as Even presses his morning wood into the cleft of Isak’s ass.

Even is awake, and he knows that Isak is awake, and he knows that Isak knows they’re both awake. It’s this that makes Isak still his movements, take a deep breath. Whatever this is is fragile. Thin ice over a bottomless lake.

 _Good morning_ , he thinks instead, and feels Even’s smile bloom against his neck.

 _Good morning_ , _Isak,_ Even replies.

 

\--

 

Eskild is a lot nicer to Even now that he sees Isak is okay.

Even has made it his mission to ‘surprise’ with breakfast each morning--but it’s Eskild’s kitchen, too, so it’s inevitable that after a few days of watching him bop around to the radio, Eskild’s steely resolve starts to soften.

On the fourth day, Even invites Eskild to join them, and Eskild doesn’t resist the chance to size him up.

Isak expects Even to flinch at it, but he doesn’t--he answers Eskild’s questions with such simple charm and honesty that Isak almost resents it, how easy it appears for him.

[“Where are you from?”

“Here in Oslo. I went to Bakka”

“Are you even into boys?”

“I’m pansexual, actually.”

“Do you have any hot friends?”

“Uh… yes?”]

Beneath the surface, though, Even’s emotions bleed out everywhere. Nerves and annoyance and gratitude and confusion all at once as he navigates the conversational waters.

The funny thing--or, at least, Eskild probably finds it funny--is that he already knows a lot of the answers anyway. Things he’s pried out of Isak while Even is on the phone to his parents or working on his editing. Isak isn’t amused, though, as the questioning wears on, and Even becomes markedly more uncomfortable. The feeling prickles under Isak’s own skin, and he does what he can to quash it, projecting support and annoyance until Even reaches under the table to squeeze his knee.

Eventually, Eskild declares him _on probation_.

 _That’s a good thing_ , Even reassures Isak, as he glares at his friend. _I deserve it after last week._

“I just want what’s best for you,” Eskild continues, shooting Isak a look that plainly says _glare at me all you want, idgaf._

“And we’re both really grateful,” Even says, then shoots a sheepish tendril of regret Isak’s way when it just pisses him off more.

Isak can tell Eskild how he feels for himself.

Not that he _isn’t_ grateful for Eskild’s love, but… still.

“You didn’t even get to have a proper bond party,” Eskild exclaims, oblivious, and Isak shrugs. With Even’s reluctance to the bond, nobody was shocked when they didn’t throw one. They certainly don’t expect it now, either.

Surprising him, though, Even takes the idea seriously.

“We could still have one,” Even says, and Isak turns to face him, ready for it to be a joke.

“Really?”

“It might be fun for our friends to meet,” Even says carefully, running the idea through his mind.

But it’ll make things even worse after, once it’s all over--the thought surfaces before Isak can bury it.. If his friends meet Even, and see how things are between them… Isak doesn’t want anyone’s pity.

“Really?” He says it again.

He doesn’t get why Even would even suggest it. A bond party is more effort than he needs to make.

“We’d be doing this, right?” Even asks him. “If we’d bonded like ‘normal’ people, I mean.”

And--yes. Isak can picture it with perfect clarity. Of course. Eskild would have thrown them a party the very next day, had Even not been so heartbreakingly anti-bond.

Isak doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s offended by the ‘not-normal’ insinuation.

“So if we’re trying to make it work,” Even says, acknowledging Isak’s thoughts like he’s said them out loud. Projecting hard, obviously. “We need to get our friends together, start socializing, right?”

“Right,” Isak hears himself saying, slowly.

Because… shit. Okay, yes, Even’s right about that. If Isak has any hope of keeping Even...

“So…?” Eskild asks, looking eagerly between the two until Isak groans and nods his head.

“I guess we’re having a bond party,” he says.

With a triumphant noise, Eskild sweeps out of the room, already dialing on his phone.

Isak hopes he doesn’t come to regret it.

 

-

 

At first, Isak thinks it’s too good to be true. That he and Even are getting along, and that there haven’t been any major dramas since the Incident.

Or kisses. But that’s something Isak is trying not to think about.

Even Jonas, though, seems to be warming up to Even a little, when he comes around and finds Even finishing his edits to Mikael’s short film. From what Isak has gathered, it’s a little political, and Jonas is grudgingly impressed when he catches sight of it over Even’s shoulder.

“Is that sign language?” He asks, when Even takes his headphones off for a break.

Even gives him a tentative smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “The main character is Deaf.” He pauses, then when Jonas still seems interested, carries on. “Mikael’s mamma is Deaf, so we wanted to make a love story with a protagonist like her--”

Jonas nods, genuine interest on his face. “So it’s a love story?”

Even shrugs, like it’s not a big deal.

“Except it’s also kind of about communication,” he says. “And like, the power of technology to amplify marginalized voices.”

He says that last part like he’s reading from a script--and he might as well be. Isak hears the shade of Mikael’s voice in Even’s head, pronouncing his great thesis statement for the movie like it’s the smartest thing anybody has ever said.

It’s all Isak can do not to roll his eyes, but Jonas seems fully intrigued, now.

“Can I see?” he asks, and Isak resigns himself to a night of boredom, as Even explains the soundtrack he’s chosen and the way he’s using ambient noise only in scenes of the girl alone, to reflect what she hears.

Isak pretends he isn’t listening, but the passion Even feels for the project, the genuine love in his voice, has something inside him feeling warm and soft. His voice sounds how his smile looks: bright and intense and mesmerizing.

When Jonas finally leaves, Even unplugs his headphones. He works for the rest of the night with Isak lying there on the sofa beside him, watching and listening as he plays the same scene over and over, cutting and shaping it until it’s perfect. He tells Isak about the scenes--how he directed them, what the actors thought, and how Mikael’s camera and lighting techniques are supposed to enhance the narrative.

Isak watches, and he’s amazed.

On screen, the girl sits there in near silence, only the occasional creak of a door or howl of the wind as she signs furiously at her mother about a boy she isn’t allowed to see. It’s different, without swelling crescendos to underscore it--all in her face, and the trembling of her fingers. Even without Isak understanding the signs, or reading the subtitles Even dutifully puts in, Isak understands everything. Without a word being spoken, he gets it all.

Isak can’t look away.

 

\--

 

Things are going well enough that Isak almost forgets, before his phone reminds him, that they’re seeing the enosi-psycheologist again today.

 _Doctor Raabe_ , Even thinks, his amusement carrying over as he takes in Isak’s grimace. _Do you seriously not know her name?_

 _I do_ , Isak argues back, even though they both know it isn’t true.

Honestly, Isak was a bit preoccupied at their last appointments. Preoccupied, tired--

“We’re not telling her about last week, right?” he says as they get on the tram. Even almost stops there in the doorway, blocking Isak from climbing on board, before shaking his head and going to sit at an empty seat.

“We have to,” he says as Isak sits down. “You could have been really hurt.”

“But I wasn’t,” Isak says, annoyed. “I’m chill now.”

He thinks that’s the end of it, but they aren’t in Dr. Raabe’s office long before Even decides to bring it up.

“I’ve been sleeping better,” Isak says, when she asks how he’s doing, and he feels Even twitching beside him. Isak sees it through his eyes, for a second--remembering vividly the long, long time he’d spent in bed after The Incident.

“Good!” The doctor says, sounding genuinely pleased. “And Even? Anything of note?”

Even glances at him, and Isak knows immediately that he isn’t going to keep quiet.

Isak still thinks it’s a bad idea to tell the doctor he was blocking the bond, if Even’s going to get what he wants out of all of this. Isak knows Even had promised him a real try, but he can’t help but think--if it doesn’t work, if Even can’t change his mind--that having proof of their noncompliance with the doctor’s orders might work against Even’s plans.

Fuck the plans, Even thinks. The picture of Isak’s trembling form surfaces once more, and Isak feels it, this time--how Even’s skin burned with it, how the guilt overwhelmed him.

 _Fine_ , he thinks, and settles back in his chair.

 _Good_ , Even thinks, then leans forwards in his chair. Isak takes in his long back, the slope of his neck, and tries not to plan for the worst. “We should tell you, something happened this week.”

The smile on the doctor’s face is immediately replaced with detached concern.

“Tell me more,” she says.

 

\--

 

Ten minutes later, Even is sitting in a waiting room across the hallway as Isak is hooked up to the EEG machine.

“It’s similar, yes,” Dr. Raabe says when he calls it that. “Are you interested in enosi-psycheology?”

Isak nods. With the electrodes being stuck to his head, it’s a little hard to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

“How are you coping?” she says after the third. “It must be an adjustment, having opened the bond after all that time in the dark.”

 _In the dark_. She means, of course, the time Isak spent blocking the bond, but the terminology doesn’t go unnoticed. Even wouldn’t like that, Isak thinks, that implication that living without the bond would be a bad thing--difficult to navigate, dangerous, all of those things darkness is.

“Have you been keeping the bond open, since?” she tries, and he nods again.

Yes. Well, thanks to those initial lectures from Even, Eskild, and Jonas, he’s not going to try closing it off again for a while.

“It’s perfectly understandable, you know.” She secures the last wire, then presses the button. “If you’re hesitant to let another person in,” she says, as the machine behind him hums and whirs. Perhaps in other circumstances, Isak would laugh at the thought. _Him_ , hesitant?

“We’re working on it,” Isak says, instead, focusing instead on the strange, blanketing feeling of the machine. He hasn’t purposefully closed the bond since The Incident, as Eskild has taken to calling it, but this is different.

“It won’t affect the bond,” the doctor had said. “Just mimic it enough to get a read on you.”

Now, he feels a little like he’s underwater. His head feels heavy, all cotton wool and white noise.

He can’t feel Even at all.

“I can’t feel him,” he says, and his heart picks up, beginning to race. It’s--there’s something a little scary, after a week of Even’s constant warmth in his mind, not to be able to feel him there.

He feels alone. Like he’s going to feel again, at the end of this, when he loses Even, and the bond is gone for good, and it’s just him alone in his brain, so far away from the rest of the world who could not possibly understand--

“It’s alright, Isak,” Raabe says, her voice purposefully soothing, and Isak clenches his fists as paper spools out of the printer, and the machine whirs to a stop.

Slowly the fog in his brain lifts, and the second he feels Even again, the door bursts open--the actual, physical door to the office, as well as the one in Isak’s head.

Even, on the other side, looks murderous, checking Isak over for signs of distress.

 _Are you okay?_ He asks, putting a hand out as if to check Isak is real.

Isak touches him back, just relieved to feel him again, pushing _yes_ and _fuck that was horrible_ and _let’s get out of here_ at Even while Even glares at Dr. Raabe.

She turns back to the results with a small smile on her face, then nods.

“You’re looking okay, Isak,” she says, eyes darting between the two of them. “I think you’ll both be just fine.”

 

-

 

At Eskild’s insistence, the bond party is that weekend, but to Isak’s surprise the kollektiv is packed full of people.

People he barely knows crowd together in long sleeves and gloves, in deference to the new bondpair. Isak and Even in their short sleeves stand out against them all, and he can’t help but smile at it, but there are some things he hand’t anticipated.

Namely, how hot all the guests are, in a small space with all their layers. Eskild opens all the windows he can to cool them down, but the breeze is strong enough to give Isak’s bare flesh goosebumps.

He settles for hanging out on the sofa, close enough to the door to answer it when someone buzzes in. It’s far enough from the windows and the bulk of the crowd, but gives him a decent excuse to hide out.

Even is in his element, social butterflying around the room like he belongs there--but Isak has never been that. He’s too aware, tonight, of the way that people are looking at him, like he’s something to be figured out.

“I didn’t know he was gay,” he hears over again, whether they say it out loud or not. And from the Bakka kids, the people he’s never met in his life, he’s met with open stares. That _he_ is the one to end up with Even, that beautiful boy who hates soulbonds.

(There are whispers, too, about Even’s _episode_ , but he doesn’t listen to those. If it matters, Even will tell him himself.)

Either way, the stress of it all makes Isak tired not even an hour in, as he waits for Jonas and the others to arrive. They’d ended up pregaming at Eva’s, apparently, the boys and Eva and Vilde and Chris Berg, Magnus and Vilde being back in the ‘on’ stage of their bizarre flirtation. Isak can’t pretend to understand it, but he does resent a bit that it had apparently delayed the entire group.

Even’s friends are late to arrive, too, and Isak had hoped that his would get their first, but just after 21:00, Isak pulls open the kollektiv door to reveal some familiar faces--a crowd of boys holding balloons.

“Mikael,” Isak says, barely bothering to smile. The look he gets in return is equally wary.

“Isak,” Mikael replies, his hands safely tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

Elias’s greeting is far warmer, and Isak is only a little surprised when Sana follows him in, shoving a plastic wallet at him with a smug grin.

“What’s this?”

“My last essay,” she says, eyes sparkling. “I got a 6… thought you might want to read it and learn.”

Isak rolls his eyes, but smiles a little, underneath that. He’s glad Sana is here tonight, if only to keep Even’s boys in line. Yousef, behind her, stares at her like she’s hung the moon, but keeps his gloved hands far from her as he plays with the strings of his balloons, standing at a respectable distance.

 _You don’t even wanna know_ floats into his head--and that’s the warning he gets before Even strolls into the hallway wearing Isak’s t-shirt, hair perfect and gravity defying as ever.

He hadn’t been wearing that earlier, but--

 _Wine spill_ , Even projects. _Hope you don’t mind._

Isak can’t even answer him before Even is ushering the group in, introducing Mutta and Adam in a flurry of gestures that Isak can barely keep up with. Neither tries to touch Even, which Isak is grateful for, but Mikael has no compunctions about stepping right into Even’s face as he loudly asks for a drink.

-

 

Isak and Even had agreed to abstain from drinking tonight, ostensibly to look out for the kollektiv and make sure nothing got trashed. Privately, Isak thinks as he watches Even work the room, Even probably suggested it to stop a repeat of last time.

Even probably doesn’t want to get drunk enough to kiss him, with all of these people around.

He’s stewing over the thought in the corner when Eva finally approaches him, wrapping him in a quick hug that effortlessly avoids skin to skin contact. She talks for a little while, about Vilde and Magnus and their inevitable crash and burn part two, but Isak struggles to keep his focus on her.

Even’s laugh across the room catches his attention, sparking warmth inside his chest.

He can’t help but look, as Even throws his head back and laughs out loud at one of his friend’s jokes.

“He’s handsome, isn’t he?” Eva says eventually..

Isak reluctantly tears his eyes away to meet hers, and she takes a slow sip from her glass.

Isak tactfully doesn’t mention that there’s only coke in it. She and Jonas have only recently come to an agreement about the drinking, after a few too many nights where they both indulged and got each other totally fucked up.

“You could say that,” he says, and she raises an eyebrow.

“Damn, Isak, you’re not blind, are you?”

He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say to that. Obviously, Even is one of the most beautiful things Isak has ever seen. That doesn’t mean he’s going to go around _saying it._

“You better watch out,” she jokes. “I might steal him.”

Isak shakes his head at the bad joke, but can’t help his gaze from straying across the room once more. Even sits between Magnus and Mikael, Magnus laughing his ass off as Mikael and Even trade off telling a story. The two talk over each other, all shared history, and a pang goes through Isak’s chest.

If Even hadn’t told him what had happened, he’d think there was something between the two.

As it is--

“Oh boy,” Eva says, quieter now. “Isak--”

“What?”

He turns to see her expression: sad, bewildered.

“What?” He asks again, and she pats him carefully on the chest. Isak isn’t sure the precaution is even necessary, what with how Even’s arm is pressed up against Mikael’s. Mikael--in defiance to all conventions--has rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, exposing skin to skin.

Isak doesn’t feel it--or he does, but not in a way that physically hurts. Which means he can’t complain about it.

“You’re falling for him,” Eva says, but she doesn’t look happy about it. She turns her head, like she’s heard something across the room, and seconds later, Jonas is striding over, standing to mirror Eva at her side--arms folded, back straight. He probably doesn’t realize he’s even doing it.

“It’s just the bond,” Isak protests. “It’s normal to feel like this, right?”

“Isak,” Eva says. “The bond doesn’t make you feel anything you don’t already feel.”

Isak knows she’s right, theoretically. The bond doesn’t create emotions--but the closeness, it makes another person open to loving you. It’s no surprise that, intimate as the bond has made them, he’s grown to have feelings. But Isak’s feelings don’t matter, do they?

Perhaps they do, Isak thinks, realizing the truth of Eva’s words. Ever since the kiss, and maybe even before it, things with Even have been deceptively good. Nice. And without the animosity between them, Isak has begun to see--well, he supposes he’s begun to see the real Even. The one he would have known, had they met in any other universe.

Perhaps, Isak reckons, there’s hope. Perhaps, if Even starts feeling things, too, Isak’s dreams will be realized. Perhaps Even will choose him and the bond and he won’t go back to Sonja when the month is up--

_Perhaps he’ll abandon everything he’s ever believed for feelings he won’t believe are real?_

At that moment of dismal clarity, Isak shuts down the instinct to close off the bond--Even, he knows, as he checks on him again, isn’t listening. If it’s anything like the other way around, Isak’s thoughts are like a CD playing in a coffeeshop right now--only intelligible if you make the effort to listen.

Isak doesn’t want to draw Even’s attention to him right now--to the way his heart is pounding against his ribs like the gallop of a spooked horse.

If Even knew Isak was growing feelings… what would he do?

At Lea’s wedding, Isak had been too young to really know the ins and outs of soulbonds. To understand why she and her husband gazed into each other’s eyes for so long at the altar. When he’d asked his mother, her eyes had gone glassy as she explained the way bonded pairs could talk to each other in their heads.

He’d thought, at the time, that it was like a superpower.

Now, though?

It’s only a matter of time before Even learns of Isak’s feelings, and pushes him away again.

“Isak,” Jonas begins, a pitying look on his face--but Isak doesn’t want their pity. Doesn’t want anything, but to get away from all this for a moment, get some reprieve.

“I need some fresh air,” he mumbles, then slips out of the kollektiv, heart heavy in his chest.

 

\--

 

It isn’t until everyone is leaving that Even finds him sitting on the curb, an odd expression on his face that’s at odds with his racing thoughts.

He’s sober, at least, but Isak can’t read his mood at all. He doesn’t know if he even wants to--he certainly doesn’t want Even looking below the surface right now. He’s just about had enough time to think it all over, stop it from sticking to the top of his mind like a giant neon sign for even to see.

He’s come to terms with having some feelings. It’s not the end of the world, is it?

He’s even got a vague reply ready for when Even asks why he’s out here, but it turns out he doesn’t need to use it.

“There you are,” Even says, and Isak shrugs.

“Were you looking for me?”

The thing is: with the bond, there’s little chance that Even hadn’t known he was out here. Isak had known that, and come anyway, and Even hadn’t joined him--for what reason, Isak doesn’t know. Maybe Even figured he deserved the space. Maybe he was having too much fun with Mikael to bother coming to check on his dumb bond partner.

But Even hadn’t come. And Isak had had some time alone to get some perspective, seemingly for the first time since that stupid kiss.

“Hey,” Even says, in lieu of a real answer. “It’s freezing. Come inside.”

It’s Winter in Oslo.

“Of course it’s fucking freezing,” Isak says as he follows him, but he hopes that’ll be that.

Inside, the kollektiv is empty, if a mess. Eskild is nowhere to be found, the light out under his bedroom door.

Isak expects them to go to bed, but Even stops at the table, instead, picking up a bottle of cinnamon whisky Eva’s friends no doubt left behind.

Even pours it into two plastic shot glasses, his hand trembling a little.

 _Imagine how I feel_ , Isak wants to say. _I was in the cold for an hour, at least._

“Here,” Even says, handing him a shot. “It’ll warm you up.”

It’s not like Isak hadn’t guessed who he was pouring for, but he can’t stop the skepticism from tumbling out, or the way his voice comes out tired.

“You want to get drunk now? With everyone else gone?”

“Why not?”

Even appears serious about his response--enough so that all Isak can do is shake his head.

_I don’t understand you._

“Good,” Even says, then bites his lip when Isak feels his own face fall. “Or, well. I don’t mean that.”

It’s not an apology, but Isak is used to that.

Isak takes the shot, and throws it down. The amber liquid burns at his throat enough that he coughs, but Even is right--it chases away a little bit of the chill.

Isak just doesn’t get what Even’s game is.

“Is this a test?” Isak asks, as Even takes his own, then pours two more. “See if I’ll cut you off like Sonja?”

Even shakes his head, then. Isak feels it in his own chest, the pang of hurt.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Even thinks, raising his shot glass for Isak to tap his own against.

It burns less, this time.

 _I don’t want to play games,_ Even projects.

And Isak doesn’t either. But he isn’t convinced. It feels like a very, very long night, and he has no idea what they’re even really talking about, now. He feels like he spent hours freezing on that curb, trying to get a grip on himself.

God, he’s pathetic.

 _One more?_ Isak asks, and Even nods, then pours. His hands still shake as he does it, and Isak wants to ask _why,_  to ask _what’s happening here_ , but there’s no point. This close together, Even must feel Isak’s confusion as if it’s his own. All Isak wants is to go to bed, and put this weird, stressful night behind him.

With one final shot--one last flame licks down Isak’s esophagus--Even takes the glass from his hands, setting both down on the kitchen countertop.

 _I’m not brave_ , Even says, eyes wide. His tongue trips over the words a little, but Isak can follow along just fine. The kick is faster when they’re doing this together, he thinks. It’s a good thing they stopped at three.

 _What do you need to be brave about_? He wants to ask, but his own mouth is buzzing. Except--the brain sharing thing. Right.

Even hears it, and Isak’s throat goes dry and tingling, he’s giddy with the anticipation, and then--

Even fists his hand in Isaks hair and kisses him, open-mouthed and heavy. His mouth is warm and fierce, teeth and tongue colliding with Isak’s own in his enthusiasm--and then Isak’s hand finds Even’s hair, and he’s guiding him right where he wants him, feeling it right down to his toes as Even sucks on his tongue, gasping. 

Perhaps tonight Isak can have this. Tonight, Isak can let go of his fears and his jealousies, and let the bond do the rest.

“Please,” Even says, a strange expression on his face, “please.”

Isak doesn’t reply--he’s lost to it, the haze of their combined want building up in him, all the things he desires in the little hidden compartments of his mind coming bursting forth like a torrent. Even tugs his shirt off with abandon, kisses down his chest with hunger, sinks to his knees like he’s ready to worship.

And then his mouth is on Isak, and everything else ceases to matter.

They come together, and the bond sings.


	7. stol på meg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me know when you figure it out,” Isak says tightly. He climbs out of bed, slipping out of the room without another word.
> 
> The door slams closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! <3
> 
> All the thanks to my girl H and to vorfm95 for reading this through for me. You're the best.

Even’s hands--

A gasp, crying out, spreading out from inside Isak’s own body--

His mouth, Isak’s mouth, Even’s mouth, the bond in technicolour--

-

Isak dreams about another world.

In this universe, it narrows down to a double bed with a blue-grey duvet that is the sky, that is the whole world in microcosm and also literally.

Isak and Even are beneath the covers, Isak tracing patterns on Even’s chest, and everything is dark except that the quilt is sky and stars. The constellations spell out nothing but they are beautiful, and Even stares at them as they get further apart, more disparate.

 _There will never be as much star as darkness_ , Even says, and Isak kisses it away.

_Don’t say that._

_The stars will keep their distance, but the darkness won’t,_ Even says, and so Isak plucks them out for him, brings them cupped in the palms of his hands, illuminating both of their faces as Even smiles in disbelief, ecstasy, terror.

In older universes the stars are closer together--that’s something Isak knows from physics class.

 _In other universes everything is brighter_ , Even says, as he holds Isak’s face in his hands.

_Perhaps there, I couldn’t do this to you._

Even screams, then, and Isak throws off the blankets as Even puts out each star, one by one.

They burn out, and the darkness remains.

_-_

When he wakes up, the room is eerily lit by the light of Even’s laptop screen. Outside it’s dark, the kind of quiet that can only mean it’s 04:00 and all of Oslo is sleeping.

Except for them.

Even is sitting on Isak’s bedroom floor, cross-legged, laptop in his lap, fingers moving quicker than Isak knew they could go.

_What are you doing?_

Even’s excitement radiates from him like electricity, and Isak finds himself pulled into wakefulness before he’s really ready for it. It’s not the first time.

The last few days have been a lot. This time, the kissing hasn’t stopped. Even has taken to pulling Isak in at every opportunity, like he’s making up for lost time, and Isak is still confused as hell but Even has been happy, and Isak has been swept up in it--the hope that perhaps, after all, Even is finally embracing being bonded and what it could be.

_I had the best idea for a script, Isak._

Even doesn’t even bother to say it out loud, just pushes fondness and anticipation and urgency through the bond until Isak pulls back the covers.

It’s freezing, when he gets his feet to the floor, and he swears, grabbing the duvet with him as he sinks to the floor. A quick grimace from Even confirms that he turned the heat down, and Isak nudges him in the side with a grumble, before Even turns back to the screen.

  
FADE IN:  
  
EXT. OSLO, NORWAY - EARLY MORNING  
  
Dawn rises on a day without soulmates. The Oslo skyline. March. The time of rebirth.  
We skip between:  
  
ST. HANSHAUGEN -- Ingrid, 17, wakes up beside Frida, 18, in her childhood bedroom. They stare at each other in horror.    
  
RØA _\--_ _Henrik, 62, stops planting roses in his garden. He turns to look at his wife, Silje, 45, who watches him from the window._  
_  
_ GRÜNERLØKKA --  Adrian, 28, sneaks out of a studio flat, dressing as he goes. William, 20, lies sleeping…

  
“What is this for?” Isak asks, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet of the room.

Or--it would be quiet. If Isak couldn’t ‘hear’ Even’s thoughts, a bubbling stream rushing in his ears.

 _A feature film_ , Even replies, fingers still flying across the keys. _It’s going to make my whole career._ He tabs to the left, then pulls up a box marked ‘Notes’. It’s filled with a dense paragraph of text--Isak has to squint to even look at it, but when he does, it makes little sense to him.

 _So they wake up_ , Even notices his confusion, turning to him with a smile. _And soulbonds are brokem. They’re all just gone, like they never existed._

Oh.

Is Even thinking about that, a lot? What it’d be like, to take the blockers?

Will it be like the bond never existed?

 _Go back to sleep,_ Even kisses him, dismissing the question that Isak can’t bring himself to ask.

What will happen? If they choose to block the bond, do they just go back to the way things were? Does Isak pretend they’ve not had this, these past few days?

Isak can’t pretend he isn’t afraid.

 _Go back to bed_ , Even prods him again, shaking off Isak’s fear like water. Even is not afraid. He is resolute.

It takes a long time for Isak to fall back to sleep.

_-_

He doesn’t rise until 11:00, but when he does, Even is still in the same place, a dirty plate beside him and crumbs on his t-shirt. He tilts his head for a kiss as Isak once more leaves the warmth of his duvet, and goes out into the kollektiv in search of coffee.

He turns the thermostat up two degrees as he goes, flexing his cold fingers against the plastic dial.

He scrolls on his phone as the kettle boils, biting his lip as he types the simple terms into Google.

According to WebMD, the signs of bipolar mania are simple. Disconnected and racing thoughts, grandiose beliefs, inappropriate elation or euphoria, inappropriate irritability, inappropriate social behavior, increased sexual desire, increased talking speed or volume, markedly increased energy, poor judgment, and a decreased need for sleep.

Isak’s stomach turns as he reads, mentally checking off the symptoms against the past two days.

In the end, Isak turns to an unlikely source.

“What’s so important that I had to come here?” Mikael asks, as he shakes the water from his coat. It’s pouring down outside, damp and miserable, but Isak stands in the kollektiv stairwell nonetheless, wary of inviting Mikael upstairs into his home.

The look Mikael gives him gets him moving, a pissy sigh escaping Isak’s mouth as he starts to talk.

“I’m worried about Even,” he says as they climb the steps. “He hasn’t been sleeping. And his emotions are all--I don’t know.”

“You think he’s slipping?” Mikael asks, immediately serious.

“What does that mean?”

“Do you think he’s manic?”

Mikael’s blunt with it, and Isak swallows hard.

“Um, I’ve been doing some research. And I think--maybe.”

“Is he listening to you? When you talk about stuff?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“And what about other stuff? Is he going out at night, or trying to do anything bad?”

Isak pauses at that, stopping right in the middle of the staircase.

“Bad?”

Mikael sighs.

“Dangerous, Isak. Last year he tried to climb up to my balcony by a drainpipe.”

Fuck.

“No, nothing like that,” Isak says, swallowing his fear.

“Okay,” Mikael says, and they climb the last of the steps before they’re outside the kollektiv door. Inside, Isak hears the radio playing, feels Even’s amusement as he bops his head to some bouncy pop song. Okay.

“If you take advantage of this, I’ll kill you,” Mikael says conversationally, as Isak goes to open the door.

It swings open, and Mikael bounds into the kollektiv like he owns the place.

“Even!” He calls, loud and obnoxious. “Let’s see this script you’re going on about!”

Isak trails after him, hands balled into fists.

\--

Time crawls with a lethargy that pricks at Isak’s skin. All he can think about is Even and Mikael in the other room--on Isak’s bedroom floor, as he cooks dinner in the kitchen. They eat together, but it’s strained, mostly Even talking while Mikael follows easily with the conversation, seemingly comfortable enough with this side of Even that he can take every random twist and turn he takes.

Isak can only watch.

Three hours later, Even goes back to his laptop and Isak shows Mikael out. As if by agreement, they’re halfway down the stairs before either says a word, even as Isak itches to ask about the grim set of Mikael’s mouth.

Mikael, though, only shrugs when Isak asks for his verdict, causing Isak to grit his teeth in irritation.

“Why don’t you like me?” Isak asks, once they’re finally at the door.

He can’t help himself. Mikael is practically dripping with disdain for him, even now, and Isak has done nothing to deserve it.

“I don’t dislike you,” Mikael says simply. His smile infuriates Isak, because it isn’t true.  

“Fuck off, that’s such a lie,” he says back, trying not to get heated about it. “You’re always giving me those looks.”

Mikael sighs, like Isak is asking for too much, but he looks him dead in the eyes, now, serious.

“I just don’t trust you.”

“What?”

“Like you give him a smile,” Mikael grimaces, “and suddenly he’s changed his whole opinion on bonding? For you?”

Which… okay, what?

“That’s not what’s happening,” Isak is vehement, but Mikael shakes his head.

“Even’s been talking about staying bonded, you know. To make you happy.”  
  
A thrill runs through Isak--hope and frustration all at once.

“Is that so bad?” He exclaims.

Because Even and Isak, bonded without an expiration date?

God, he wants that.

“Do you hear yourself?” Mikael asks. “Do you really want him to feel trapped his whole life? He’s such a fucking martyr that he’d do it.”

“A bond isn’t a trap!” Isak bites back, and they stare at each other for a long moment, shoulders high and chins set forward in anger. They’re at stalemate.

It’s a conversation Isak and Even have had, before, and Isak can’t keep on having it. He believes what he believes, and he’s not going to apologize for it.

Mikael looks at him for a long time, before his voice softens.

“Just keep an eye on him, Isak. Make sure he doesn’t do anything dangerous. Try and get him to eat and sleep.”

With a final shake of his hair, Mikael steps out into the rain.

_\--_

The temperature drops soon after, bringing with it a flurry of white.  

One minute, Even is watching it from the window, with a hand pressed to the glass. Isak, already under the covers with his chemistry notes, is hardly paying attention to Even’s thoughts--until Even gives him a resounding kiss on the cheek, walking out of the room with long, purposeful strides.

Isak can only stare after him for a moment, until his brain catches up and he’s throwing off the covers, pulling on thicker clothes and one of Even’s many beanie hats.

He’s gratified when he sees Even’s boots gone from the hallway, but less so when he sees his coat still on the hook, grabbing it before he takes the stairs two at a time, bursting out of the door and wildly glancing about. He doesn’t have to look very far.

There, in the middle of the street, is a beautiful boy.

_Even?_

Isak struggles to see through the snow, coming down hard and fast. He pulls his coat around himself, taking in Even’s pink nose and wet hair and gloveless hands. He must be freezing--but he’s spinning around, instead, looking up at the sky like it’s full of wonder.

Isak would worry... but Even’s joy is contagious, tempering any of Isak's concern that lingers.

As Even turns to him, Isak, too, is engulfed by it: a surge of impossible happiness warming him from the inside out. He huffs out a laugh, as Even smiles at him.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

 _What a time it is to be alive, and in love, and here, in Oslo, with each other_ \--

“Even,” he says out loud as Even waves him over, then steps right into Even's space to wrap his coat around him. Even’s laugh is giddy, and Isak can't help but grin. “What are we doing?”

He can’t keep the smile from his face as Even kisses his nose, his cheeks, his frozen fingers finding purchase under Isaks hood.

 _The world is so beautiful,_ Even says, laughing as the snow falls around him. _You are so fucking beautiful, Isak. Fuck the blockers. I should keep you._

And that’s-- Isak lights up even more, hope expanding in his chest until it hurts, until--

Wait, that’s not right.

Even looks at Isak for a moment, confused, like he’s come to the same conclusion--but it passes, then, a smile dances across his features.

“Come inside,” Isak says, careful. “Come to bed with me.”

Even frowns, then, as Isak pulls back, fights the force of nature that has him bound into Even’s head. For the first time since The Incident, Isak pictures the door. Closes it against the blizzard of Even, locks it shut.

The cold gets colder.

“Where did you go?” Even asks, and Isak takes him by the hand.

“Inside,” he says, and Even bites his lip.

But Isak kisses him, and Even melts into it, and follows Isak up the stairs with no prompting, letting Isak push him into the bathroom, towards lukewarm shower before Even gives in, starts peppering his face with kisses.

Even pushes against the door of their minds, a tendril of want and mischief that makes Isak shiver, and he lets Even in, just enough that Even slows, Isak’s own restraint anchoring him.

 _You need to get warm_ , Isak chides, and all Even does is huff, pulling his frozen clothes off with no care about his own nudity.

 _Not a child_ , he reminds Isak, and---Isak can see that. Fuck.

Mustering his willpower, Isak hands him a towel, and leaves the room. Before they both do something they’ll regret.

_-_

When Isak wakes the next morning, Even is sitting up in bed with a mug of tea, incredibly still.

“Morning,” he says out loud, wrinkling his nose when Isak startles. It’s Isak’s first instinct to probe the bond, check on the storm of Even’s emotions, but when he does, he finds it calmed again--Even is regretful, but it’s a manageable thing. It slips away when Isak goes to chase it, replaced by something else. Anticipation, maybe.

Irritation, a little.

 _I’m doing better,_ Even projects, and Isak meets his eyes with a jolt to find him staring Isak down, face a perfect mask of nonchalance.

_And?_

He doesn’t seem manic anymore, but--

 _I wasn’t manic_ , Even thinks straight away. His frown is small, but Isak can read it nonetheless. _Did Mikael explain it to you?_

Of course he didn’t.

Isak thinks about everything he’s read. The energy, the lack of sleep. The way Even suddenly seemed to want him so much. If it wasn’t mania--

 _Just hypomania_ , Even thinks, and Isak lets out a deep breath even as he struggles to understand what it means, think back to all of his reading.

 _I don’t want you to think that’s why any of this is happening_ , Even projects. _Just because I was hypomanic doesn’t mean I don’t want you._

Isak closes the door just long enough to think the thought that comes to mind-- _why do you want me?_

But Even is wiser to it, now, putting his coffee cup down with a frown. He nudges against the bond, pushing until Isak acquiesces, letting him back in.

_Why are you closing it? Can you still feel it?_

“No,” Isak says, and it’s the truth. It’s just not the whole truth. “Does it always feel like that?” He asks, hoping for a change of topic.

Even considers it, and Isak follows the paths his thoughts take--the memory of the first time he heard the word ‘hypomanic’, and what it had followed. It had felt wonderful, then, but also scary. To feel so disconnected from reality--like he was running just a half-second before the rest of the universe.

“It was different,” he says, slowly. “I don’t know, it felt different than before.”

“What do you mean?” From what Isak had felt--it had still been like that, this time. Overwhelming.

“You were there,” Even says, wringing his hands. “I mean, I think the bond made it different.”

Isak lets out a deep breath.

He tries not to think about it.

“Did it help?” Because if it helped, then maybe...

 _It helped_.

Good. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“But it’s going to get worse,” Even says now, out loud. “If I don’t take the blockers, and we stay bonded, and I have a full episode…”

He’s afraid.

“But I can help you,” Isak argues. “If we stayed bonded, maybe I could help you--”

“Do you want that?” Even interrupts. “For us to bond just so that my episodes are easier? That’s not fair to you.”

“Would that be the only reason?” Isak asks.

Even stops.

Isak surprised himself with that question, so he understands it. But it’s what Isak has really been wondering--why has Even been kissing him? Does he actually want Isak?

Because for Isak, that’s what it comes down to.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… do you still want to go back to Sonja?”

Even’s “I don’t know” is quiet. Unconvincing.

Thankfully, Isak can read his fucking mind, and he does, now, because he needs to know. He thinks about her--about Sonja--and from there, it’s easy to follow the thread, even if the memories aren’t nice to look at. Isak journeys into Even’s heart, and it’s a whirl of conflicting emotion. Love for Sonja, so much of it that Isak winces, pulls himself back with a terrible wrench--only to find Even looking at him apprehensively, fear in his eyes.

“That’s not true,” Isak says, mouth twisting into a frown.

“It’s not easy for me,” Even says. “I don’t even--how do you feel about me?”

It’s a simple question, but it takes Isak by surprise.

Because surely that much is obvious.

Even is Isak’s bondmate. Even is the most beautiful thing Isak has ever seen.

Isak wants everything with him. From him.

And if Even doesn’t want him in return?

“It’s not as simple as wanting you,” Even says, but Isak doesn’t know what he means. Surely that’s everything. He either wants Isak or he doesn't. They’ll either be bonded or they won’t.

Isak will either be whole, or he’ll be alone.

“I think I could have chosen you,” Even says quietly, “but I’ll never know for sure.”

Even’s voice wavers, and Isak has to look away.

“Let me know when you figure it out,” Isak says tightly. He climbs out of bed, slipping out of the room without another word.

The door slams closed behind him.

\--

Eskild tells him it’ll all work out in the end. Jonas tells him to keep fighting for what he deserves. Eva tells him to give Even time to decide--

But no matter what his friends say, as the days follow Isak’s dramatic storm-out, he can’t let go of it. Even tiptoes around him, shooting him sad and confused looks at every turn, and Isak distances himself as much as he can without closing the bond door. It’s easier, now, with it more settled, but Isak can still feel the weight of Even’s worries like a burden on his own back.

It doesn’t help that Isak has had him, now. Has felt Even’s kisses, and knows what it’d be like to hold him.

As the days pass, Isak works himself into a frenzy, fearing he’s said the wrong thing. That he has pushed too hard--hard enough that he’s driven himself into a corner he can’t get out of.

When he tries to talk, all Even will say is that he’s figuring it out, and Isak can’t begrudge him for doing exactly what he asked.

He only wishes he knew how it was going.

Eventually, he cracks, and asks the one other person who might be able to tell him.

 

  
Hey Sanasol  
Thanks for the new notes

 

(y)  
You better not lose these ones

Haha i won’t, promise :)  
How are you?

…  
What do you want?

Rude

Is this about Even?

No…

:)

Fine  
Do you know if he’s said anything about me lately?  
To Elias and the boys?

You need to talk to Even about this, not me.

All we do is talk about this.  
It isn’t helping  
Mikael said I was being an asshole  
Trying to change Even’s mind.

Mikael??  
Isak, sometimes boys are idiots.  
It’s Even’s choice, at the end of the day.

Yeah.

But it’s yours too.  
Figure out what you want.

 

Isak stares at the screen, not knowing what to say. What does he want? What options does he have? He wants what he’s always wanted: a bond, a partner, a life.

Surely it’s Even, and not him, who has to decide now.

\--

The thing about the universe is that so many things are decided for them. If not ‘decided’, necessarily, by some higher power, then at least beyond their ability to change.

The bond, of course, is mostly beyond their control. The way they taste to each other. The way their bodies fit together.

The way, in sleep, they reach for each other, wrapped up so thoroughly that they’re practically one.

Isak doesn’t make any of it happen, but it happens.

On this particular morning, Isak wakes up to find Even’s face only inches from his own. Even’s blue eyes taking him in, like he’s precious.

The light filters in through the curtains, early morning quiet only broken by the sound of Eskild, clattering around the kitchen.

Isak moves to pull away, sure that it'll be another awkward, avoiding day--but Even’s hand comes to rest on his cheek.

 _Please_.

“I want to learn to close the bond,” Even murmurs, and Isak’s heart skips. Even’s hand slips down to cover his breastbone, like he feels it--and for a moment, they lay there like that, Even counting the beats of Isak’s quickening pulse.

“You do?” Isak says, a little breathlessly, and Even smiles.

This is the moment, then. The one Isak has been waiting for.

“Yeah, Isak, I do.”

“Does this mean you’ve made up your mind?” Isak asks--but Even’s face does something complicated. Isak tries not to be too disappointed.

 _Oh_.

“I just need to know if I can do it,” Even explains. “It would change things, I think.”

Isak accepts that, because he has to. It makes sense, at least: Even can’t stay bonded to him, if he can’t master that control. Isak understands it.

“Okay,” he murmurs, and Even lets out a breath, tension leaving his body for just a second before he bites his lip, cards a hand through Isak’s hair.

 _But-_ -

_But what?_

“I need you to do something,” Even breathes, and Isak lets him move closer, so that their faces are almost touching. Their mouths almost brush.

_I need you to trust me._

Isak startles at that, pulling back, ready to defend himself: _I do trust you--_

 _That’s not true_ , Even thinks, a conscious echo of Isak, only days before. _You don’t trust that I like you. That I’m not just going to disappear, if we close the bond._

_Aren’t you?_

Even pulls back at that, and Isak curses himself. When Even speaks again, it’s more exasperated than angry.

“Fucking hell,” Even says. “You can read my fucking mind. Aren’t you supposed to know?”

Isak doesn’t dare look at Even’s thoughts about him, actually. He’s only just realizing that--which is stupid, maybe, but at the beginning it had seemed necessary. There’s only so much he could take knowing he wasn’t wanted.

 _Tell me, Isak_ , Even says, now. He nudges at the bond, floods it with hope and pleading. _Tell me how I feel about you_.

“You don’t--”

“Isak.”

Isak stops, then--Even’s hands come up to cup his face once more, and Isak stares into his eyes for just a moment, until Even’s flicker down to gaze at his lips.

How does Even feel about him? Isak is afraid to know, but Even kisses the fear from his mouth, his whole body reacting to Isak’s as their tongues touch, as Isak’s hand finds the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

 _The door is open, Isak_ , Even thinks, and Isak is done for. _You just need to step through it._

 


	8. elsker deg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the register, Even eyes the condoms and lube, the question simple in Isak’s head.
> 
> Yes, Isak thinks, and Even takes them with nonchalance, despite the way his pulse starts to race.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LORD this chapter was a big one. This has been in the works forever, and I feel some kind of way about it, so... be gentle with me, lol. This is the first bottom!Isak scene I've ever written, would you believe it? That said, it's a longass sex scene, and I am upping the rating to explicit because, yep, it is. If you want it to remain 'mature', skip the text between the asterisks (**), but you'll miss out on some character stuff as well as the smut.
> 
> Lol.
> 
> All the thanks in the world must go to colazitron/H, who wrote the sex scene here with me way back when, and Immy, for the input and betaing. Love you. <3

_ Isak _ . 

“Just don’t wait for me to fall in love with you,” Even says into the darkness. 

Across the bed from him, Isak’s eyes shutter closed. Even takes no comfort in the fact that it hurts him, but the sick churn of his own stomach comes first. The feeling of the walls getting closer, world narrowing in until his heart is inside a box chained up--

Isak. God. He wishes he’d never followed him, never indulged that itch under his skin that said  _ go, look, isn’t he perfect. _ Even has brought down the hammer on them both, doomed them, cut Isak off at the knees before he even had a chance to be real and bright and--this can’t be happening. It has to be a dream, an episode; no, a nightmare in black and white film.

What a tragedy it is, that Even’s touch has destroyed such a beautiful boy.

_ Isak _ . 

The bond is quieter than Even imagined it would be. He gets snatches of Isak’s thoughts, sure--and his emotions are easier to read than any other person Even has ever met, but… this isn’t what he expected.

He’d promised Isak that he would try, and he  _ is _ \--trying to picture his life like this, trying to imagine spending forever with this boy by his side. But Isak resents him, and all Even feels from him is misery, and how is that supposed to work? 

When Isak asks him about  _ epic love stories _ , Even doesn’t know where to begin.

With Mamma, who left Pappa and six-year-old Even for a year after bonding on a crowded train, only to lose her bondmate to a random car accident, because the universe is fucking cruel.

With the first doctor he saw at 14, who told his parents  _ we can only hope he doesn’t bond _ after the first of three wrong diagnoses, and he’d learned that nobody deserved to be stuck with him.

With the first time he saw Romeo and Juliet, saw Romeo leave his bondmate for a girl he had chosen to love, and everyone had said  _ but they die at the end,  _ like that’s the price to be paid for wanting the rights to their own hearts.

With the hospital bed after he’d had his stomach pumped, brought back to life by strangers in medical gloves, and had told Mikael, tears in his eyes,  _ my life isn’t mine to decide. _

With how he’d touched Sonja, and he’d touched Mikael, and he’d touched countless people in between, for a taste of what that felt like, and each time there had been no bond a voice in his head had said  _ maybe you can’t, maybe you’re safe, maybe this is the one silver lining to your broken brain. _

Even might say all of this to Isak, but Isak isn’t listening. 

That’s Isak’s choice.

_ Isak _ . 

The wind ruffles Isak’s hair as they walk along the river bank, and Even tries not to stare. There’s yoghurt sauce at the corner of his mouth, where he just finished his kebab, and it’s all Even can do not to reach over and touch, brush it away with his thumb. 

Fuck it.

He reaches out.

When Isak looks at him, all mischief, Even’s heart grows ten sizes, and he doesn’t have the energy to resent it. Isak’s happiness is his own happiness--which is something he would have balked at, three weeks ago, but now seems like the most natural thing. Even would give Isak everything, if he knew how. 

If he thought he could make him happy, that being tied to Even would be anything other than a curse--but how to protect him? 

Isak is beautiful, and he is clever, and he is the most vulnerable person Even knows. Not in the sense that he is weak--but in that he has so much capacity for love, and loyalty, and wants so badly to be able to share himself with someone that he lets Even into his life. Even’s issues are sharp things to slice into Isak’s soft heart, but where Even sees unworthy danger, Isak sees a sword worth falling upon. Without the bond--

Even thinks he would have chosen, Isak, if he had the choice. Maybe he did--in a way, if Even can let that be a consolation. Even wanted him the night he followed him from the room. Wanted him enough that he didn’t even think about the gloves in the back pocket of his jeans, didn’t even consider that this touch might be different.

Of course Even still wants him now. Now that his anger has dulled, his fears diminished--now that he begins to see what it would be like, to hear Isak’s laughter in his own chest, to sleep wrapped up in his brilliant mind and strong body.

Now that he’s had this, how could he turn away from it?

But at the same time--how could he not?

Perhaps it would be better to go back to Sonja. Back to what’s safe, knowing he won’t hurt her--

“Even,” Isak says, wrenching himself away, tears in his eyes.  

With a trembling hand, he reaches forward, and kisses him, tugging at his clothes until they’re both naked. Both vulnerable.

Together.

\--

Isak doesn’t know where to begin. The warmth of it--Even’s feelings for Isak--it’s a lot to take in. 

But that’s not all Isak focuses on.

From the start, Isak had fought against Even’s feelings against the bond, but now, with a sinking feeling in his chest, he begins to wonder if Mikael was right. Feeling Even’s fear of the bond--and knowing where it comes from, now--Isak feels sick to his stomach. For the first time, he realises exactly how much Even has given, in trying to make this work.

Isak has barely met him halfway, pushing and blocking and making things harder. The guilt sits heavy in his stomach, even as Even cards his hand through Isak’s hair, kisses him slow and thorough, Isak finally believing that it’s what he wants.

Isak doesn't deserve this. He hasn't been fair. But Even wants him anyway, and so Isak resolves to do the right thing, now, to do right by him.

It would change things, Even had said. To be able to block the bond himself.

“We can work on you closing the bond,” Isak says, when they finally pull away. “And if not, you’ll take the medication. And we can figure out what to do from there.”

“Are you sure?” Even asks. It’s hope that radiates in his chest, and Isak feels the sting of it.

“I don’t want to go back to Sonja,” Even says, quietly, and Isak kisses his cheek.

“We’ll figure it out,” he repeats. 

-

Despite all that, teaching Even how to close the door is easier said than done.

The bond is everywhere, Even tells him, after the third time Isak tries to get him to picture the house. It’s my whole body, but like, you’re part of me too. It’s too tangled up.

He can feel Isak, when Isak presses their minds closer--can even do that, himself. But as Isak draws away, he doesn’t know how to mimic it.

It’s the same, Isak tells him, but Even just frowns at that. The same in reverse, Isak projects, and Even huffs, annoyed.

_ Like skating backwards _ , he thinks, and Isak sighs. Even isn’t even very good at skating forwards, if his memories serve right. Backwards is an impossibility.

“What did you think about, when you blocked me the first time?” He says out loud, and Even’s brows draw close together as he tries to remember it.

“I just wanted you out of my head, fast,” Even said. “Like I was pushing you away.”

“Maybe we could try that,” Isak says. “If I try to focus on a memory, you could try to stop me seeing it?”

An hour later, Even’s head is pounding, and he’s only succeeded twice, feebly pushing Isak back into his own head with great heaves that feel like moving mountains.

He’s exhausted, but the smile on his face makes it worth it.

Even is everything that Isak could have asked for.

He sees it in the way that Even smiles, big and bright--how it makes Isak feel like the most important, interesting person in the room.

He sees it in the way Even talks to Isak’s friends, charming them, shielding Isak when they ask uncomfortable questions.

Even seems to navigate through everything so easily, but Isak knows how hard he’s trying.

Jonas and Eva come over for hours one afternoon, hoping that another point of view will help Even learn to close the bond. Even sticks with it even after his head begins to pound--listens to Eva talk about threads and strings, how she conceptualizes the bond as a series of knots and ties. Jonas, for his part, talks about switching channels, like Eva is a radio playing in the kitchen to be turned up or down. For Even, it is still a garden of thorns, a neverending forest--but he’s getting there. It’s easier, he says, when Isaks thoughts are more than words--when they are feelings, or pictures. 

Feelings, Even is used to suppressing. Pictures, he can blink away. 

Even keeps trying, and that’s all Isak can ask of him.

-

It’s funny, now that they  _ can  _ spend time apart without bond hunger, that they have so little inclination to do so. When Mikael and Elias turn up at the kollektiv, though, Isak figures it’s about time to send Even off to have fun with his friends for a while, show that he’s not holding him captive.

With the way Even kisses him goodbye, and Mikael’s expression, he doesn’t doubt that Even’s friends have their suspicions.

Isak can’t help listening in, here and there, as the boys film one of their Youtube videos, settle in for some FIFA--but Even loves his friends, and they aren’t asking him anything probing about Isak, so he leaves Even to his own devices and calls his own friends over to kill the time.

He hasn’t seen Mahdi or Magnus since the party, or heard the latest in Eva and Jonas’s rocky agreement. Now that things are looking up with Even, Isak is starting to miss his friends.

But Eskild, coming in from work, seems surprised to see Isak alone as he waits.

“I guess,” he says, when Isak explains his evening’s plans, but his mouth purses disapprovingly. “It makes sense to want to see your friends.”

“But?” Isak asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m just surprised,” Eskild says. “Don’t you only have a week, until the big decision?”

Isak hasn’t been thinking about the deadline, if he’s being honest. One more meeting with Dr. Raabe this week… and then, yes, their final appointment is due for the following Friday.

Isak and Even have agreed to focus on right now, and cross that bridge when they come to it.

“Yes,” Isak says, and then nothing more, because they’re trying to live in the moment. Trying to be happy together, and to work on the bond, like they should have done from the very beginning.

Isak can wish for more time, but it’d be useless. Dr. Raabe has made it clear that the decision needs to be made soon after the bond settles. Before it becomes too entrenched for the pills to have the necessary effect.

_ It’s not over yet _ , Isak tells himself, as his friends stream through the door, chattering away about girls and school and  _ when are you back, Isak, has your doc signed you off yet? _

But he sends the boys home early, nonetheless, and Even turns up five minutes later, handsy and needy in a way that says Even is feeling it, too. How the countdown has begun to weigh on them.

-

The wind is angry above them. Isak and Even are on a boat, and the shore is in sight, but they do not appear to be getting any closer to it.

“This is new,” Even says, a note of worry in his voice, and Isak turns to him, surprised.

There’s something about this dream-Even seems different. Less assured, maybe.

“Is it really you?” He answers, and Even looks around.

“You don’t usually ask me questions,” he says, which makes no sense. Isak’s always asking him questions, when they dream. “You say what I’m not ready to hear.”

“You’re not usually very nice to me,” Isak says. “Remember the tower?”

The boat rocks, a storm rumbling in the distance. They’re on the fjord, Isak realizes, in a rowboat with no paddles. The wooden sides are a vivid green, and his backpack, lying in the cavity, is filled with jars of honey.

“What tower?” Even asks, as a big wave has them clutching at their seats.

Isak would reply, but--

“Hold on,” Even says, grim determination in his eyes. “And whatever you do, don’t drop the rings.”

Isak looks down. In his hand, two golden rings form, glinting up at him under the moonlight.

The boat lurches, treacherously, wood creaking like it threatens to split in two.

“We’re not going to make it,” Isak says, looking out to land. It’s so far, and the waves are so perilous.

“ _ That’s _ what you usually say,” Even says, pulling him forward for a kiss.

“Three. Two. One--”

The boat goes under, and Isak gasps awake.

Next to him, Even’s eyes fly open, and his hands find Isak’s face in the darkness.  _ Just a dream _ , Even thinks,  _ another of my stupid dreams.  _

“It’s okay,” Even says, as Isak’s heart begins to slow again. “We’re okay.”

-

It’s not all scary, at least.

It amazes Isak, now, how much fun they can have with the bond when they want to. Now that there are no secrets between them, the heavy stuff gives way to the light. Isak and Even find themselves turning to it more and more for comfort, as the week whiles away. 

To the fun stuff. Emotionally and physically.

In Rema, Even teases him for spending so long choosing between cereal boxes, and Isak teases back when Even stops to chat to a stressed-out mother by the pick and mix. Leaving him to his own devices, Isak wanders the supermarket on his own, through the fluorescent lights and the puddles on the floor where people have tracked in rainwater, picking up toilet paper and toothpaste at Eskild’s urging before stopping by the vegetable selection.

Isak’s never been big on cooking, but it’s nicer, doing it for two. When he and Even are in the kitchen together, their bond becomes more noticeable--they move around each other in perfect harmony, chopping and passing and giving each other elbow room without a second thought. Eskild, seeing it once, said it looked like they were dancing.

_ The dance of life _ , Even had replied, pulling Isak in like they were waltzing even as Isak rolled his eyes, kissed him.

_ Aww _ .

Across the supermarket, Even is amused by the memory--Isak must have been projecting, because he can feel the rumble in Even’s chest.

And fuck, Isak loves that feeling.

He focuses on the vegetables instead, looking for what he needs. With a flash of inspiration, he picks up the biggest carrot he can find before focusing on the sight of it.  _ Size matters _ , he thinks, and Even’s laugh reverberates into Isak’s belly.

_ Lucky me, then _ , Even thinks back, mischievous, and Isak gets a flash memory of the night before, Even wrapping a hand around Isak’s dick. Isak’s is a little longer, but certainly thicker, and fuck, he can’t believe Even’s thinking about that right now, in public. Last night--last night was good.

_ You ever thought about using vegetables?  _ Even teases, realizing the carrot is still in Isak’s hand. Isak drops it like it’s burning--much to the ire of the old man beside him.

Isak picks the carrot back up again, putting it in his basket with a sheepish expression.

Even’s going to pay for that.

He grins to himself, then pictures it--something else he’d done last night. Isak had taken Even into his mouth until he was a panting mess, his inner monologue nothing but Isak’s name and  _ fuck, yes, fuck  _ again and again--

_ Point taken _ , Even projects back, but it’s strained: Isak can feel he’s got him, searching Even out until he recognizes the telltale spark of arousal.

_ Let’s go _ , Isak projects, and Even rounds the corner, eyes sparkling with mirth and anticipation. 

At the register, Even eyes the condoms and lube, the question simple in Isak’s head.

_ Yes _ , Isak thinks, and Even takes them with nonchalance, despite the way his pulse starts to race.

-

The hail is brutal as it stings Isak’s skin, but that hardly seems to matter.

They stumble in full of exhilaration and anticipation. Isak drops the bags in the kitchen without a second thought, just laughs as Even tuts and goes to pick up the rolling cans that tumble out.

They push at each other, racing to make it first to the kollektiv bathroom. Isak strips faster, though, with a triumphant “ha!” as he gets a towel around him first, turning around to see Even pout.

Even lets out  a long-suffering sigh and slows down under Isak’s gaze, deliberately making a show of pulling off his shorts. He’s half hard, just like Isak had guessed--has probably been just as frustrated as Isak has, ever since Isak started thinking about this. When the shorts hit the floor, Even turns around, before bending down oh-so slowly to pick them up.

The fucker is playing dirty, and his smugness is thick in the air.

Isak lingers in the doorway for a moment, watching Even finally stand and wrap his towel around himself, covering his glorious ass. Isak still finds the sight completely arresting. The curve of Even’s spine as he leans down to brush mud from his ankle. The rain-damp hair dark brown at the nape of his neck.

Isak looks and looks, and then he can’t take it any more

Even lets himself be pulled into the bathroom, towel hanging low on his waist. The sweat beading at his temples shouldn't be doing it for Isak, but it really is--and it's that, more than anything, that makes Isak say "lock the door."

“Hi,” Even says with a smile, and then complies.

They're still wet and chilled through, but that doesn't stop Isak from pulling Even towards him for a kiss, not from letting the kiss deepen until his back hits the wooden cabinet housing the sink, the small room not made for two tall men. 

Their towels fall to the floor.

The wood feels warm against Isak’s skin, the pressure of it at the base of his spine not exactly pleasant, but not enough to make him stop yet either. Isak briefly wonders why they bothered with the towels at all. They both knew this was where they were headed.

He grimaces a little as he slides ungracefully along the edge of the cabinet so Even can open the cabinet and steal Eskild’s lube.

"Eager?" Even teases, but he's already fumbling for the bottle while doing his best to keep kissing Isak (open-mouthed, hot touches) so he's really got no room to talk.

"Shut up," Isak says, but he rolls his hips against Even's, ignoring the discomfort under his back as his rapidly-filling dick slides against Even's belly. Of course he's fucking eager.

"How do you want it?" Even asks, thoughts flickering to the shower, and Isak feels a spike of excitement at the prospect. But Isak can’t wait. He gives Even no time to suggest it, simply turning in place and planting his hands either side of the sink basin, widening his stance as he eyes Even in the mirror, inviting him in.

_ Come on _ .

Even brackets him in against the sink with no hesitation, pressing a kiss to the damp skin of Isak's neck. One of his hands snakes around Isak's waist to idly scratch at his stomach, and Isak shivers.

There and then, all Isak can focus on is the cool porcelain under his hands, the heavy line of Even along his back and under his skin, and then Even is drawing away just enough to get his hands on Isak's ass.

For a moment, he doesn't even do anything, just trails one hand down Isak's back, past his shoulders and down to the top slope of Isak's ass cheeks. Isak's whole body zings with the lightness of the touch, like he can actually feel his nipples pebble. The frigid chill through the bathroom window, left open by accident, is too much.

Even's hands, by contrast, are warm and gentle, and Isak feels his body melt into the touch--some of the anticipatory tension leaving him again even as he bites his lip, stares down Even in the mirror. 

_ You’re so fucking beautiful. _

Isak doesn’t even know which of them thinks it.

Even traces patterns on Isak's ass with his fingertips, causing Isak to shiver just a little, continuing the patterns on the inside of Isak's thigh. Isak spreads his legs a little wider, and Even crowds in closer, dick pushing up into Isak’s taint once, then twice, like Even can’t help himself.

It sends another shiver up his spine, even as a warm flush runs through his body. "I could just touch you for hours," Even murmurs, half to himself, and half to Isak. Isak grins, but rolls his hips back to push his ass closer to Even anyway. 

_ Or you could fuck me, _ he tries, emboldened, relishing the way Even stills, his brain turning to static.

Even doesn’t ask him if he’s sure, because he must feel that Isak is. Maybe this should feel scary, but it doesn’t. 

Isak wants to get to do this with Even at least once in his lifetime. If he’s going to have his first time with anyone, it should be with his bondmate. The person he trusts most in the world.

And Even complies.

**

The first press of Even's fingers inside Isak is nothing new--because Isak has hands of his own, he reminds Even--but there's something about it still that makes Isak squirm. Maybe it's that it's the middle of the afternoon, and this is new.

Maybe it's just that Even's eyes are on his own, and he feels spellbound by them, like he can't blink or he'll miss everything.

Isak can't remember the last time someone looked at him like this--or perhaps it’s more true to say that nobody ever has. He feels completely exposed, like every naked emotion on his face as Even searches for his prostate is being broadcast loud and clear.

Even turns his head a little, glancing down, then he looks back into the mirror, meeting Isak's eyes there again. His eyes sweep back and forth, between Isak's face in the mirror, Isak's face right next to him, Isak's back and very likely his own fingers moving between Isak's cheeks, then back again to their reflection.

Isak follows his eyes in the mirror, keeps his own gaze on Even's face. "Enjoying the view?" he asks, grins when Even pinches him in the side with his free hand for it, amusement zinging through him. 

Even's hand leaves Isak's side to slide up his chest, Even's eyes watching his hand's progress over Isak's skin, pinching at his nipples. Isak gasps, but watches Even watch him, the expression on his face more interesting to look at.

"Ready?" Even asks, when Isak doesn't say anything more, and Isak's  _ yes _ is probably overwhelming, because his mouth twists into a grin. Isak would roll his eyes, but he's distracted when Even withdraws his fingers, and he sees him in the mirror fumbling with a foil packet.

"Need help?" Isak asks, and there's that little zing again.

It's strange, how Even's touch feels with their minds this intertwined. Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Isak feels it rise up in him, this urgent need to be closer. He presses his mind into Even’s and Even envelops him, his arousal and need warming Isak right through.

"Relax, I've got it," Even says, and Isak just purses his lips, widens his stance a little, presents himself to Even that little bit more as Even rolls the condom down over his dick. 

Outside, the world could be ending in flames and Isak thinks it wouldn’t matter; they wouldn’t even notice. Isak is holding his breath, hands gripping onto the cabinet like a lifeline as Even's dick nudges up against his cheeks.

His mouth opens on a silent exclamation when Even pushes inside, abs pulling tight briefly before he makes himself relax again to let Even push in deeper. It's only when he's pressed as deep as he can go--chest firm against Isak's back and one arm wrapped low around Isak's abdomen to hold them close--that Isak exhales a shuddery breath. 

_ Yeah? _ Even asks, and it's a nothing question, really, but Isak keeps his eyes on Even's face, tilts his chin up as he says  _ yes _ . Of course,  _ yes _ . And Even rolls his hips up, grinding his dick into Isak in the tiniest of movements until he's as deep as he can go.

_ Fucking hell. _ Isak stretches his back just a little as he feels sweat or rainwater or both trickling down through his eyebrows, salt stinging his eyes.  _ More. More. _

Even's pleased hum rumbles in his chest, vibrates against Isak's back in a way that makes his toes curl against the tile, makes his hand slip around until they find the cool porcelain and he tries to brace himself there.

Even is all around him--the hand on his belly, dick in his ass, the smell of him, and the feel of his breath on Isak's neck as his thoughts race, trying to remind himself to go slow. It's overwhelming enough that it takes a moment for Isak to realise that with each slow grind, his dick is rubbing uncomfortably against the wood of the cabinet, leaving trails of precum in his wake.

He goes to get a hand on himself, but Even gets there first: encircling Isak's dick with his free hand to shield it from the discomfort, so that every time he fucks up into Isak, Isak's cock fucks up into the tunnel of his fist. Isak closes his eyes for just a moment and breathes, squeezing a little to draw a groan out of Even. 

_ Yes _ .

And then Even's movements get firmer, deeper, even as they remain slow and steady, just this maddening rhythm that makes Even himself cling to Isak for dear life, and Isak scramble for purchase on the cool sink. His sweaty palms warm the porcelain until he feels himself slipping, but he doesn't care; just lets himself slip forwards enough that the angle changes and he's less upright, and Even can pull out more before sliding back in with a jerk of his hips.

"Oh, fuck me that's good," he breathes, grins to himself when it makes Even huff a toneless laugh into his hair as he leans forward over Isak. 

He loses their connection over the mirror when he lets his head hang low, but instead he closes his eyes and lets himself feel, the darkness and damp heat between their body creating an intimate sort of bubble that makes everything just that little bit more intense, a litany of  _ yes, good, fuck, Isak _ in his mind swelling and crashing with each push.

The slow rhythm Even sets is agonizingly, maddeningly good. Makes tingles spread all over Isak's skin. 

He can't help pushing back into Even to meet his dick, some irrational part of his brain believing Even could still get deeper, that somehow it could be more. Even's hand on his dick tightens minutely, but even that doesn't speed up. Isak can feel the ripples of pleasure building through his body--and, too, can feel Even tremble against him, the strain of going slow making his movements less coordinated. 

But Even doesn't give in and pound into him, and Isak doesn't ask him to: instead, he lifts his chin, stretches out, and feels how his whole body tingles. Instead, he lifts his chin, and Even breathes into his neck, half kisses that are closer to exhales.    
  
The hand on Isak's belly moves, and Isak would complain, except he and Even are already pressed as tight as they could be. He looks down, and Even's hand settles over his own, on the rim of the porcelain bowl, fingers gripping Isak's fingers. It’s like Isak has never had his hand held before--and he hasn’t, like this. He won't admit it later, but it has yet more heat building in his gut, has his dick steadily leaking precome.

Even's touch feels almost unbearably good, and Isak can feel the smile widen on his face. 

It takes over: this strange, almost serene happiness, like this, of all things, is the exact right thing to do at this precise moment. And he wouldn't expect to feel it while he's half bent over a bathroom counter, but here he is. And he wouldn't change a thing.

_ What? _ Even wonders, catching sight of Isak's face in the mirror. When he looks up, his face is still slack, happy, and when Even meets his eyes, Isak's smile widens.

And Isak loves him. In that moment, Isak fucking loves him. 

Even's surprised pleasure is like sunshine all by itself, and he huffs out an incredulous breath before resting his forehead on Isak's shoulder, his body shaking all over. 

Maybe it should feel scary to have that out in the open. But the way Even reacts to it, Isak can’t bring himself to regret it. 

Even’s mind is a jumble that Isak would ordinarily try to parse, but the heat building in Isak's belly is getting to be too much. He can't hold onto the sink much longer, he knows, so he leans forward further, until his elbows, too, are on the countertop. Even slips out of him, and Isak hangs his head, again, a little bit delirious with how good he feels.

When Even lines back up, sliding in inch by inch, Isak lets out an embarrassing noise at the new angle. With more room to pull out, Isak can feel Even almost pushing against the wooden cabinet, trying to restrain himself from fucking in too fast and ending it all.

"You can do it," Isak breathes finally. His voice is deeper than he realised it would be. “Come on, Even.”

The tensions slips from Even's body as he huffs another one of those toneless laughs, rests his forehead against the skin between Isak's shoulder blades as he catches his breath for a moment.

"You sure?" he asks, his voice equally low.

Isak catches his amusement, and feels a streak of wickedness run through him. He doesn’t know who it belongs to, but it feels good. Powerful. He wiggles his hips in a way that makes Even's dick rub against his prostate and Isak cut himself off with a moan.   


_ Oh, fuck _ . Even’s slow rhythm falters. Isak could carry on teasing like that, he thinks for a moment, enjoying how Even reacts.

But his thighs are starting to tremble, and Even's heartbeat is thumping so hard against his back that Isak feels breathless. So he says nothing: he just reaches behind him, circling the sensitive skin of his hole with a finger, listens to Even's sharp inhale as he brushes against Even's cock.

_ More _ , Isak demands, and then Even's hands are both on his ass, prising his cheeks apart and fucking into him again with renewed vigour. So slow, and so deep, and so fucking hard that Isak's eyes nearly roll all the way back into his head, that he's making little uh-uh-uh noises that he's never heard come from his own mouth before.

Even's hands are slipping just a little on his skin and Isak grabs one of his own ass cheeks to help him out, unwilling to lose this precise sensation; the depth and strength of Even fucking into him so that every thrust pushes him along to the inevitable end. He shuffles his other arm around, wedges it underneath the faucet to have something to push back against to keep his dick from hitting the cabinet and realises that he's probably going to come untouched.

Even’s hand isn’t on him, but Even is imagining it is. Isak can see it vividly, how Even would still be stroking him if he could, and it sends him into a frenzy.

He arches his back when Even's angle slips a little to get his dick back against his prostate, feels himself rise up onto the balls of his feet and sends a quick prayer out that he doesn't slip. With the way his entire body feels like a raw nerve ending and Even's breathing heavily behind him, it can't be long now.

"Isak," Even says in his ear. Then again and again, without words, Isak's name--until he opens his eyes and realises that it's a question, that Even is asking him for permission. He's going to snap, Isak realises, feeling Even's hips jerk erratically, feeling the Herculean effort Even is going to not just to let go and fuck him fast and sure.

"Okay," Isak says, nonsensical though it is. He rolls his hips back faster, and Even makes a sound that seems punched out and of him, gripping Isak tight as he finally gives in.

Isak gives up the arm he's got behind him and brings his second arm forward, bracing himself as well as he can.   


Even is getting him too good, Isak thinks. White hot pleasure, now, just the right edge of too much. Isak has the hysterical thought that he's pretty sure he'll never again have sex this all-consumingly good.

It feels like the sort of thing that happens to other people. Like he's already looking back at it through rose tinted glasses--except that he's living it, right now, and he's never in his life been so precariously on the brink, felt his nerves this frayed.

And then Even gets a hand on Isak's cock, and it's all over.

His arms buckle and there's another one of those noises he's never made before being practically ripped from somewhere deep in his chest. It's a good thing Even's still got his hand on his cock, because he's pretty sure otherwise he might have banged it against the cabinet.

It all blends together, then, riding the wave of pleasure and relief. Isak's not even sure he's stopped coming until he physically feels Even's movements stutter at the end of his own release.

The feeling comes back to Isak's legs slowly, pins and needles all along them and the tiles cool again when he sinks back down onto the soles of  his feet. Even leans forward to cover his back, both of their bodies moving with heavy breaths.

_ That was-- _ Isak starts, and waves a hand around instead of finishing the sentence. Even knows. He feels it too.

Even takes his hand off Isak and slowly pulls his hips back to let his dick slip out of Isak's body. He rinses his hands in the very sink they just fucked over--washes Isak’s own come off of his fingers.

Isak glances at the shower, but even the thought of anything on his skin feels like too much, for a second. All he can do is slump against the cabinet and try to remember how to breathe. 

When he closes his eyes, he feels like he can still see Even's reflection in the mirror, eyes squeezed shut and mouth hanging open as he came. 

**   
  
_ Fucking hell _ , Isak thinks. He could look at that ridiculous orgasm face every day for the rest of his life, and not get sick of it. Forever and ever and happily ever after, all the things they say in love songs and in movies.

"Okay?" Even asks, having shuffled next to Isak and bent over so he can peer at Isak's face between his eyes.   
  
Isak waves a boneless hand at him. "Just give me a minute."

"Yeah, okay. A minute sounds good," Even says, and then sinks down onto the floor, leaning back against the cabinet and stretching his long legs out over the cool tiles.

Isak turns around at last, wincing at the twinge in his back, to see Even pressing his red face against the wall. Suddenly it hits him just how sweaty and gross he feels, completely destroyed. He didn’t even know he could feel like this. That sex would be like this--envelop him so completely, make him feel so much. Fuck. It’s overwhelming.

The further he gets from orgasm, the more the magnitude of what just happened hits him. That this may be the only time he gets this, if Even can’t--

_ Imagine there is a door, and close it. _

Maybe a cool rinse wouldn’t be the worst thing. 

"Come down here," Even says, squinting up at him in what looks like confusion. 

Isak shakes his head. If he goes down, he might never get up.    
  
Instead, he reaches out his hand, and Even takes it, standing back up.   
  
“I’m going to shower,” Isak says softly. “But thank you. For giving me this.”

Isak feels Even pushing gently at the bond, but he keeps it shut. He can feel himself starting to shiver, the cooling sweat and rainwater chilling his body. But it isn’t just that. He feels raw and naked deep down at the innermost part of himself, and it’s scary.

He can’t read the spectrum of emotion that flashes across Even’s face, but perhaps that’s for the best.

Because Isak loves him. He really loves him. Not because of the bond, even--in that moment, he can’t help but believe he’d fall in love with Even regardless. And in a week’s time--maybe he won’t have this, anymore. Maybe the bond will be quiet, and they’ll be in a whole new world, trying to figure out how to be together in spite of it.

Isak already grieves for it. For the loss of this. But for Even--

“You don’t need to thank me,” Even says, biting his lip. There’s worry in his eyes now, Isak sees. 

Another push, and then he retreats. Isak avoids his eyes, bending down to wrap his towel back around his waist.

“I won’t be long,” Isak says, limply gesturing to the shower. 

Even frowns, but nods.

“I’ll start dinner,” he says slowly. 

He leans in to kiss Isak once, lips soft against Isak’s cheek.

The door closes, and Isak steps under the water.

He turns it up as high as it’ll go, and blames the scalding pressure for the tears that spring to his eyes.

 


	9. beslutning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But you want to be together?" Even searches his eyes like they’ll hold the answers. It breaks Isak’s heart, a little, that he’s even asking.
> 
> He tilts his chin, inviting Even to kiss him.
> 
> "Of course I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your love and patience! Special thanks to H, for reading this when I hated it too much to see it clearly. Love you, babe.

Dr. Raabe’s office is quiet, but for the whir of her machines.

She checks the printouts from the psycheogram with a practiced eye, nodding and humming approvingly. It can only be a few minutes that they wait, hand in hand, but by the time she turns to them with a smile, Isak’s grip on Even’s fingers is an unyielding vice.

“Well, boys, it looks like the bond has settled.”

Fuck.

Isak swallows hard. It’s not a surprise, now that they’ve been taking better care of the bond… but he wishes they had more time.

“Good,” Isak forces out.

“Yeah,” Even says, equally unenthusiastically, but the doctor only smiles, sitting back down at her computer.

“You’re ready to start school again, Isak,” she says, pleasant as ever. “I’ll get your forms printed.”

Just like that. Isak had expected more of an inquisition, but she does just that--turns and pulls the paper from the tray, squiggling her signature at the bottom. Easy as anything.

“So that’s it?” Even asks.

“That’s it,” she assures him, looking between them. Isak doesn’t understand the gleam in her eyes. “Have you boys come to a decision?”

Fuck, no.

They’re so far from a decision that it’s comical.

Even has been practicing shutting Isak out with such little success. They’ve spent every second together that they can, since they had sex, almost desperate with how they cling to each other.

“No. Not yet.”

Even says it, because Isak can’t--too busy clenching his fists in frustration, at the whole situation.

“That’s fine. We’ll have our final appointment next week, so you have until then to decide. After that it may be too late.”

“Thank you,” Even says, with a smile that only Isak knows is strained.

Time is not on their side.

\--

Even spends the afternoon with Jonas and Eva again, trying as hard as he can to push Isak out. By the end of it, he’s exhausted, flopping onto Isak’s bed with a frustrated groan.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but his thoughts are perfectly clear.

How is he supposed to do this during an episode? How is he supposed to muster the energy to keep Isak out when he’s too depressed to get out of bed?

Would Isak be able to shut Even out before he felt it too? Or would he feel obligated not to--to be the thing tethering Even to the world.

Isak wishes he knew the answers, too.

They lie there in the half-darkness. Isak tosses and turns, but Even’s mind beside him is racing as he scrolls through his phone, jumping between forums and science sites and useless listicles on Buzzfeed.

_pheromone therapy trial mental health bond_

_bonding and mental health - 10 coping strategies_

_“this medication forever alters the connection between bonded minds”_

_unconventional bond_

_Even_. Isak nudges him, pushes into Even’s mind until Even sighs, pulls him in close. Minds entwined as Isak’s hand rests on Even’s chest, head tucks under his chin.

_What are we going to do?_

_No fucking clue_ , Even admits, bringing up his hand to rake through Isak’s hair.

Isak pulls back to kiss him, soft and slow, clinging to him until every part of his body feels alive with it. Until it stops being slow and sweet, and becomes frantic.

Even rolls on top of Isak, pressing him into the mattress with his skinny limbs, and Isak stretches out, revels in how his body goes taut against Even’s as Even starts to harden up against him, the tension in his thighs as Even settles between them.

But even as Even rolls his hips down, Isak can’t shake his worries. He never thought he’d be in bed with a beautiful boy and be thinking about anything but dick--yet as Even kisses down his stomach, all he can think of is the bond, how sparks seem to follow Even’s touch. How this time might be the last time he feels this.

Even pulls away before he gets to Isak’s wilting dick, his own eyes suspiciously shiny.

“Can we just cuddle?” Isak asks, trying for gentle. He kicks himself even as he says it, for killing the vibe by pushing Even back like this.

But Even only exhales, energy going out of him like a candle blown out.

“That sounds perfect,” he says, tucking himself into Isak’s side.

\--

As if they don’t have enough decisions to make, over breakfast the next morning, Eskild asks Even if he’s going to stay.

“What are your plans?” he asks, peering at Even over his coffee cup.

Even carefully doesn’t look at the way his silk dressing gown falls open, but Isak notices him noticing.

“What do you mean?” Even replies, and Isak says nothing, focusing on projecting calm as Even’s heart starts to race.

“Are you going to keep living here?” Eskild asks, with a pointed look between the them both. “Linn would like to know before she returns.”

“Oh.”

They haven’t discussed that, actually--but Even’s thoughts on the matter are immediate.

 _I want to stay_ , he thinks, and Isak feels his nerves at admitting it.

“Yes,” Isak says out loud, and Eskild smiles.

“Good,” he says. “Because rent is due, and now Even can help you pay it.”

Even laughs, relief washing over him like cool water--and just like that, apparently, it’s settled. Bond or otherwise, Eskild has accepted Even as a card-carrying member of the kollektiv.

(There are actual cards. Isak lost his in the first week.)

Somehow, it clears the air a little. That night, they don’t simply cuddle. With that one thing settled, they barely leave Isak’s room all weekend, except to collect more things from Even’s parent’s place.

When they get back on Sunday night, Eskild nonchalantly hands Even a key.

“Hurt him and you’re dead,” he says as he hands it over. “Linn told me to say that.”

Isak smiles, as he spies their missing flatmate on the sofa, bundled up in her duvet like she never left.

“Hey” she says tonelessly as Even walks in, then gives him a second glance.

Eskild has told her everything.

Isak knows this, because Eskild has done it all on the groupchat, where Isak’s been able to read (and dispute) every damn word. Theoretically, he knows, it’s all probably fine. He just doesn’t know what she’s going to think of all of it--especially because _he_ never asked for her permission to move Even in.

“Hi,” Even says back, taking a seat on the other sofa. He doesn’t comment on the sweatpants, or the duvet, but he smiles as Linn reaches out her hand, extending the bag of crisps to offer him one.

Eskild claps his hands as Even accepts one, gently shoving Isak down onto the sofa next to his bondmate.

“Who’s ready for Paradise Island?” he says, clearly excited at getting everyone all together.

Isak smiles at Linn, then takes Even’s hand.

 _I hate this show_ , Even admits, a laugh quirking at the corner of his mouth.

\--

The room is getting smaller and smaller.

Even puts a pill in his mouth, and swallows it down. He opens his mouth and it’s gone, and then he picks up two more, puts them on his tongue, invites Isak in closer like he can kiss them into his mouth so that they’re both empty--

Because Even is empty. His eyes are dull glass, his body made of wood and hinges.

“What are you thinking,” Isak asks, but Even turns from him, creaking joint as he swings away, then back.

“I don’t love you,” Even says, and his mouth moves like somebody else is making it close and open.

His whole body hangs like a puppet and so Isak looks up.

And the puppetmaster looms above them, shutting Even’s mouth so that no more pills go down.

Isak looks at his hands.

It’s him pulling the strings.

-

On Monday morning, Isak fumbles his way out of Even’s sleeping embrace, and goes back to Nissen. The air is crisp, and the sun is hidden behind the grey, and the late snow crunches beneath his feet. It all feels muted, without Even, as Isak feels the bond stretch and grow to accommodate the distance. It doesn’t hurt this time, but it’s hard. To feel so close to Even, but at the same time so far away.

He arrives at school hoping for a distraction, and he gets one, at first--the stares, the whispers, it’s intimidating, until the boys close rank around him and people finally look away.

The novelty of being back doesn’t last for very long.

Everything’s the same--the same classes, the same people. Sana sits beside him in chemistry at the same careful distance. In the hallways, Emma still stares him down like she’s trying to figure him out--even though she must know; everyone knows about Even.

Isak smiles to himself at the thought of him. In the cafeteria, he finds himself listening in, tuning in to Even’s warm hum of concentration as he makes drinks, rolls his eyes at fussy customers, gets teased by his fellow barista about his young love.

If he couldn’t feel Even, Isak might be able to forget the past month, for a moment. It might feel like a dream--but Isak has had plenty of those, lately. Isak hasn’t dreamed Even up; Even is real and bright and tangible, and has shown him how to feel things that he didn’t know he would ever be able to have.

They’ve spent a month together, learning how they fit--and that’s the difficult part, now, with things still unresolved. Having to go back to class and pretend he cares about English and petty school gossip about who’s touching who. Perhaps, with time, he’ll appreciate the space to think, but for now, Nissen life just seems surreal. Unimportant.

Even when the boys question him in the cafeteria about what he’s going to do, he finds himself drifting off, struggling to describe the moments between them. How do you explain intimacy? How do you put into words the way another person can light you up inside with a single look?

“We haven’t decided yet,” he tells them, but that isn’t to say--it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love Even, he tells Magnus, tripping over himself at saying it out loud. Love isn’t the problem.

 _(Miss you,_ Even tells him over the bond as he leaves his shift at KB. He’s walking back to the kollektiv like he belongs there, and his excitement to see Isak is contagious.

 _Miss you_ , Isak echoes, and he can’t keep the smile from his face.

No. Love isn’t the problem at all.)

He spends the afternoon on edge, itching to get back home to Even. Even’s thoughts get louder and louder as he’s drawn into them, tempted into wrapping himself up in Even’s projections of support and teasing.

Even feels so close, but so far away.

Until he doesn’t.

When Isak emerges from Nissen at the end of the day, he understands: Even sits on top of a bench in his favourite denim jacket, absent-mindedly texting as he hums to some cheesy pop.

Isak’s first instinct is joy.

The second is nerves.

There are plenty of people around, eyeing Even curiously as Isak approaches him. As Isak nears him, he flexes his fingers, trying to shake off the tension of it, the residual fear of everyone seeing with their own eyes that Isak Valtersen likes boys.

Well, one boy.

In the end, missing Even wins out--when Isak reaches the bench, he lets Even frame his face between his palms and kiss him. He enjoys the way he can sink into the happy thread of Even’s thoughts and block out the rest of the world for a second, safely wrapped up in him.

“Hello,” Even says, and Isak has never been spoken to so softly.

“Hello,” he says, going in for a second kiss.

\--

On Tuesday, Sana finds him in the library, late, surrounded by bonding books.

“This is pathetic,” she says, sitting beside him with a sigh. “You said you were going home an hour ago.”

Isak did say that. And then he started reading psychology books for a new perspective on bond science and fell down a research rabbit hole.

“Did you know,” he tells her, opening one of the tomes on his table, “that one in three people never have another long term relationship after losing their bondmate?”

Sana levels him with an unimpressed glance.

“Losing their bondmate?”

“You know, if one dies young, or, like--” he says, looking away.

She pulls the book from his hands, shutting it with a thud that startles him. And scares him, a little bit.

“What’s this about?” she asks, but he honestly doesn’t know himself.

Since he woke up this morning, all he can think about is what it will be like to lose the bond. There’s a term for it, he’s discovered--for grieving that specific connection once it’s lost, however the loss happens. Death, or blockers, or random skiing accidents where a serious head trauma severs the bond and leaves both partners with lifelong migraines.

But Isak has to prepare for the worst.

“You are not helping yourself,” Sana says, moving the pile of reading away from him.

And, sure, realistically, Isak knows that he’s just working himself up into more of a mess. But they’ll either block the bond or they won’t. Right now, it seems like a 50:50 chance, and there’s no undoing whichever choice they make.

Leave it be, and they’ll be bonded forever, at the mercy of Even’s bipolar.

Block it, and they’ll lose the best thing Isak has ever had. Even a few weeks on them will kill the bond dead, gone but for a whisper.

And Isak will have to spend the rest of his life missing it.

“What the fuck do we do?” Isak asks, but Sana shakes her head.

“For once,” she says, “I don’t know the answer to that.”

\--

Time is running out.

Isak leaves school on Wednesday to find no Even outside.

His shift will be over soon, but Isak doesn’t want to wait.

Technically, KB is sort of on his way.

Even looms over the KB counter, his long limbs easily reaching around his coworkers to grab coffee beans from the tallest shelf. His laugh rings out across the shop, over the bond, and Isak doesn’t stamp down his own warm feelings in time--he projects fondness across the bond, and is gratified as Even’s head immediately swings to face him.

_You’re here._

_Missed you._

_I’m glad you came._

They smile at each other--Isak pulls, for a moment, at the threads of Even’s emotions, wondering about his day. In return he gets flashes of it--boredom, amusement… the ten minutes on Even’s break he’d spent with a boner.

 _Yeah, you already told me about that one_ , Isak thinks wryly.

Isak had been in English class when he’d become aware of Even’s arousal, projected casually across the bond like it was no big deal. When Isak’s eyes had fluttered closed, he’d seen it--Even excusing himself to the bathroom as his thoughts took a turn, cupping himself with a stern hand before wondering if Isak could feel it too.

 _You enjoyed it_ , Even teases--and then his coworker clears her throat, points at the two people waiting impatiently for their drinks.

I’ll sit and wait, Isak projects, and Even smiles before he turns his back to the machine.

“Ugh, soulmates,” the coworker mutters, but she has a smile on her face, too.

Isak takes a seat close enough to watch Even work, and Even starts up again, chatting away with ease to the customers in line. He charms them so effortlessly that Isak almost can’t remember the angry boy of those first few weeks.

Isak could watch him like this forever.

It’s so easy to imagine. Swinging by after school, pestering Even with dirty thoughts as he finishes his shift. Sitting at the counter doing his homework, the hum of Even’s thoughts as he goes through the motions of some complicated latte in the back of his mind.

When Even’s shift ends, his hair is falling in his eyes from the steam, and he looks so ridiculously soft that Isak doesn’t hesitate before kissing him--a gentle press at first, then another, then another, before someone at the counter clears their throat.

Isak would feel more embarrassed, but it wasn’t like they were using any tongue.

Or, Isak wasn’t, at least.

“Shall we walk home?” Even asks, when they finally break apart.

By some coincidence--or, as Even informs him with a laugh, by virtue of its proximity to Bakka, Even’s KB is only ten minutes’ walk from the kollektiv. Even takes Isak’s hand unselfconsciously, and Isak tries not to blush, or shy away from it.

Even holding his hand has become one of his favourite things. Something he hadn’t expected to like, really, but now makes him feel safe and warm. (Makes him think of the bathroom, of Even inside of him, of feeling full up with Even and his heart and how much Isak felt about him--)

I don’t want to lose this, Even blurts out, as they wait at a crosswalk.

For a moment, Isak is surprised. Not at what Even says, but at the fact Isak hadn’t anticipated it, too wrapped up in his daydreams.

The light changes. Even and Isak stay where they’re stood, ignoring the strange looks from the other pedestrians on the pavement.

Me either, Isak admits out loud, but doesn’t say what he’s really thinking. That they will, if they block the bond.

 _If_ , Even thinks. _I’ve been thinking about that._

_I know._

It’s all either of them have thought about, Isak thinks. How could they not, with the deadline to decide approaching so soon?

It’s what they’ve been tiptoeing around the last week--maybe longer than that.

“Do you still want to block the bond?” Isak asks.

No, Even says. I want you.

“Are you really okay with it?” Isak asks, then. “Not knowing if you’d choose this?”

Even’s emotions are a rush of contradictions. Yes and no, side by side as Even struggles to explain it.

Even has felt one way about the bond his whole life. Isak finds it hard to believe that he could just forget about it, give it all up for Isak--

“I don’t want to lose this,” Even tells him, gripping his hand tighter. “The bond. That’s more important to me.”

 _You are more important to me,_ Isak hears. But he can’t help his fears.

“And what if it’s just the bond making you think that?”

Even is quiet, but his mind isn’t.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?”

_Isak just wants them to make the right decision. He wants as much as he can have--but he also wants Even to be sure. He doesn’t want Even to wake up in ten years and wonder if this choice was truly his own._

_But you want to be together?_ Even searches his eyes like they’ll hold the answers. It breaks Isak’s heart, a little, that he’s even asking.

He tilts his chin, inviting Even to kiss him.

_Of course I do._

(Love is not the problem.)

-

The last day before their appointment, Isak comes home late to an empty kollektiv, useless books abandoned at the library. He calls out Even’s name, but his room is dark.

He calls him, wandering into the kitchen, peering into the bathroom, but Even doesn’t answer. When he gets back to his room, perching on the edge of his bed, he realizes why.

Even’s phone lies blinking on the pillow, battery close to zero.

For a moment, Isak panics that Even is manic.

He searches the bond--feels the cold air on Even’s face, the crunch of the snow and leaves beneath his feet. He tugs deeper, focusing on Even’s emotions, whether he’s slipping, if he’s alright--

And then, just for a moment, he’s shoved out of Even’s mind. He pushes back, worried, and--

 _No_.

He barely has time to process it before Even lets him back in, his frustration and sadness leaking out of him. He doesn’t apologize, but he sounds sorry, as he projects. Even the voice in his head sounds weary.

_I’m in Kristparken._

Isak is back out of the door without a second thought, legs almost working of their own accord. Even makes a pathetic figure, shivering on a park bench with a lit cigarette in his hands. He barely smokes anything that isn’t weed, but Isak doesn’t ask where he got it from, or why.

It’s one of those nights, he thinks, as he takes a seat beside him.

_I can’t do it._

Isak looks at his hands.

“I still can’t block the bond for more than a minute,” Even says out loud, voice full of self-loathing. “It’s not getting better.”

“It’s okay,” Isak says, but Even shakes his head.

“No, it’s not. You deserve better.”

“Even.”

“It’s not fair, Even says, scrubbing a hand through his hair in shame. “I followed you and I touched you and now you have to put up with me like this. Fuck, I’m going to make you so miserable.”

His sadness clogs Isak’s throat, pricks at the corners of his eyes. It winds him, a little, to feel the extent of Even’s regret. Hurts, even--Isak hates that their bond has reduced Even to this. Exhausted, and hopeless, and miserable.

It hurts that Even regrets their bond.

“Do you not want to be with me?” He asks, but Even waves it away like it’s a stupid thing to ask.

“Of course I do.” 

Isak tries not to think about the fact that Even hasn’t said _I love you_. Even’s hand finds Isak’s thigh, and he squeezes, looking into Isak’s eyes, searchingly. _Of course I do_ , he assures Isak, leaning in for a kiss.

His lips are chapped, and his mouth tastes like smoke. Isak kisses him back anyway, hungrily grasping at Even’s hair and slipping his tongue into his mouth, with something like desperation.

When they pull away, they are both panting, gasping for air.

Even’s cheeks are pink, and his hair is wild.

In this moment, he is the most beautiful he has ever been.

Perhaps because Isak is so afraid to lose him.

“Then stop worrying about the future,” Isak tells him, more resolved. “We have no idea what’s going to happen. So let’s just… be together.”

It’s hard, but Isak knows that it’s right. He wants them both to be okay. He doesn’t want to live his life worrying about a hypothetical someday, when Even second guesses him or gets sick. Isak wants them to be happy. Isak wants to be with him.

_Are you sure?_

_I’m sure._

_Even with the bond blocked?_

And fuck, that’s the question. The one they’ve been dancing around all week, hoping it won’t come to this. _But Even can’t block the bond, and Even can’t keep Isak safe from himself, and--_ those aren’t Isak’s thoughts, but they cloud his mind, weighing heavily on his chest.

 _Yes,_ he says, pushing through it. 

"Okay," Even says.

He pulls Isak in close, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes into Isak’s mouth. Their hearts throbbing like open wounds, tear tracks making spectacles of their pink cheeks. The weight of the decision hangs heavy in the cold air between them, a shroud of grief for what they have had, and what is about to change.

\--

12 hours later, they walk out of the pharmacy with a prescription.

Back at home, Even holds the packet in his hands, and Isak closes his eyes and kisses him.

 _I love you_ , he acknowledges, and Even kisses him back, warmth and fear and anticipation surging down the bond like electricity.

Even puts a pill on his tongue, and swallows it down.


	10. for alltid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re choosing me?” he says, looking Even in the eyes.
> 
> I think I would have chosen you, but I’ll never know for sure.
> 
> “I’ll keep on choosing you,” Even says, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND IT'S OVER.
> 
> Thank you all for the love and support. I finished this very late at night and am honestly sick of the sight of it, but I wanted to post before I go to Oslo tomorrow, so HERE, HAVE THIS THING. I hope you don't hate it.
> 
> NOTE: This contains a sex scene--search for the asterisks (*) to skip past it. It's a bit rough, so feel free to message me before reading if you're unsure about it.

Before, Isak had assumed that the medication would be like a switch. Like they’d wake up the next morning and it would be like someone had blown a fuse, turned off the bond at the mains. It’s not like that at all.

If the bond were a lightbulb, it would be just starting to flicker, dimming its glow.

It isn’t yet dark.

Isak wakes up to the sleepy half-thoughts of Even in the bathroom, taking a piss and brushing his teeth. Isak climbs out of bed gingerly, padding across the hallway and coming up behind him, wrapping his arms around Even’s stomach as he kisses his shoulder.

“Okay?” He asks, and Even nods, hair falling in his eyes as he tries to hide the tears in them.

“Bit of a headache,” he murmurs, and Isak swallows hard as Even squeezes his eyes shut, wills himself back to sleep all curled up and vulnerable-looking.

 _This is the right thing_ , he reminds himself. This is what they agreed.

\--

Isak hadn’t thought too much, before, about the physical toll of the bond dying.

Mental--yes. He’s haunted, still, by the statistics of it, the surety that mourning the bond will be a test of both his and Even’s strength. But he hadn’t thought, so much, about the medication’s side effects.

He reads from the information leaflet, eyes desperately scanning as Even huddles under the duvet, shivering violently.

Even had woken up like this, retching into the toilet bowl and then finding himself unable to settle. He smells terrible, but that’s not the difficult part--that’s the fear he radiates, even after Isak reads him the side effects in a slow voice, says soothing things into the air and hopes that Even can be calmed by them. For a moment, Isak tries closing the bond, but that’s worse--Even grasps at his arms with rigid fingers, taking unsteady breaths.

It won’t last. That’s what the websites say, when Isak looks it up, just to be sure. That’s what Dr. Raabe says, when Isak calls the office demanding advice.

“Let it run its course,” she says, and Isak resents the calmness of her tone, so unbothered by their turmoil. “The bond is sending his body into fight mode, trying to protect itself. The less you feed the bond, the weaker it’ll be.”

Some part of Isak wonders how that works. The advanced science of this, the bond medication, is complex. He’s done the research--enough to know the hows and whys of what each little pill does, but... there’s a lot of unknown. A lot of calculated risk, with what they’re doing.

There’s a reason it’s only allowed in extreme cases.

He doesn’t think about that for long, with Even suffering as he is. Logically, he knows that Dr. Raabe is right; discouraging the bond now is the right thing, to make the process as painless as possible.

But when a tear slips down Even’s cheek, Isak can’t help himself.

“Here,” he says, finally, prising the covers off and wriggling under them. He wraps himself around Even as if he can anchor him; to his surprise, the shaking subsides a bit, Even hungrily absorbing his touch as he tries to draw him closer.

 _Shh_ , he murmurs as Even turns his face into Isak’s shoulder. Eventually, the only movements in his body becoming his shuddering breaths as he cries.

Isak wishes he could tell him it will all be okay, but he can’t. He can only hold him tighter, and hope that things get better.

He doesn’t know if it will.

\--

It takes less than a week before it really becomes clear that the bond is dying.

The flickers start to last for longer. One day, Isak turns around to open the fridge, making cheese toasties for them to eat in bed, and when he looks back, the bond has gone dark. It takes fifteen minutes before he even feels the stirrings of Even again, and even then, they’re muted.

It’s worse when they’re apart. Together, they can almost pretend that the bond isn’t slowly withering before their eyes, burrowing deep into each other’s minds for comfort despite the effort it takes. Apart, the bond splinters faster, it seems--so that one day Isak is at school, trying not to listen to Even as he goes out to hang with Mikael, and the next, Isak is straining to hear Even in the next room.

The dark patches are hard on them both.

They curl up on the sofa together, one of Even’s romance films playing on the television. Something in black and white, in English, that Isak is hardly paying attention to.

“It’s weird,” Even says, as the main character stares out from a train window. “I can’t feel you watching.”

Usually, Isak knows, he’d be bitching about the film in his head, or broadcasting warm and fuzzy feelings about it loud and clear. Even looks at him now like he doesn’t know what he’s going to say next.

“Do you like the film?” Even asks, and Isak shrugs.

He doesn’t know if Even even likes the film. He doesn’t know what Even wants him to say. Usually, he’d know how Even felt, and he’d be able to respond accordingly--tease him, if he felt like it, by critiquing it, or please him by making observations about what he’d liked.

“I don’t really get it,” he admits, finally. Because it’s the truth. “It’s so sad. That they don’t just be together.”

“They both have bondmates,” Even says quietly. “They can’t just be together.”

It was harder, before. Isak knows that. Even fifty years ago, it would have been inconceivable, to walk away from a bond. Now that Isak has done it, he knows how difficult it is, even when you’re doing it for love. And still, as he watches, he wishes that the couple on screen would be brave enough to defy the odds, live happily ever after despite their sacrifice.

Perhaps, he thinks, he needs the validation of it--but the couple on screen can’t give it to him. The woman goes back to her husband, never to return to the train station waiting room. Beside him, Even is very still, and Isak sees the tension in every line of his body, but doesn’t know how to alleviate it.

That night, when they go to bed, Even starts to shiver again--but this time, when Isak goes to touch him, Even pushes him away.

“You shouldn’t,” he says. “Please don’t.”

Isak retreats, but he doesn’t sleep. Just listens to the sounds of Even tossing and turning into the early morning, a sheen of sweat sickly on his skin.

\--

Isak has taken enough time off of school without staying home to look after Even now. He’s clear for the 10%--that’s not the issue--but he can’t miss any more time if he wants to be passing with sixes this year.

That knowledge doesn’t make it any easier to leave him in Linn and Eskild’s hands. As much as he knows they’re just side effects, it’s impossible for him to focus, knowing that Even could at any time take a turn for the worse. Dr. Raabe assures them that it’s nothing to worry about, when Isak yet again calls her office, but everything about it feels wrong.

Like the bond is rotting before his eyes, turning his stomach, decaying right there inside of him. The bond is stubborn, fighting off the drugs by loosening and tightening in turn--Isak never knew it would be so visceral. A neverending battle between the bond and the blocker, with Even’s body as the ravaged field.

If Isak is tired, Even is completely exhausted by it. Through it all, he drags himself to work, meets up with his boys, sees his mother--and Isak doesn’t know how he’s doing it, but he wonders if it helps, to be too busy to focus on what’s happening.

School hasn’t proved a very good distraction.

This morning, when Isak left, Even fell asleep halfway through telling him to have a nice day, and Isak has spent every single class thinking about it. He’s halfway tempted to split at lunchtime--only anchored in place by Magnus flopping down at his table, a long-suffering sigh making Isak roll his eyes.

“What’s up with you?” Isak asks. Between Even, and the bond, he knows he’s neglected the boys, a little, but he’s still reluctant to really get into too much of Magnus’s latest drama.

He’s half expecting another rant about Vilde, or something about some dumb dream that’ll take them into some comic relief. Magnus is good for that, except--

“Just Mamma,” Magnus says, to Isak’s surprise. He pokes at the pizza slice he brought along with him, before laying it down on the cafeteria table with a frown. “Dad texted to say she’s manic, so my bedroom is now ‘mustard yellow.’”

Which… what?

For a moment, Isak goes still. But unfair as it may be to Magnus, he can’t help but think of his bondmate.

“Manic?” he asks, careful with his words. “She’s like Even, then?”

Isak has met Magnus’s mother, obviously, but Magnus has never mentioned mania before. He would never have guessed, otherwise… but he guesses that’s how it goes, because he didn’t know about Even, either, until Even said so to Dr. Raabe. His first thought is to wonder whether Magnus’s mother is bonded to his father, but it seems rude to ask. It’s not about Even, anyway--Isak tries to remind himself. He can be a better friend than that, surely.

Magnus, meanwhile, looks at him blankly for a second before recognition dawns. It seems that the mention of Even has distracted him, because he seems thoughtful, rather than worried.

“He’s bipolar too?” He says, nodding. “Huh. That suddenly makes a lot of sense.”

Again: what?

“You didn’t know?” Isak asks, wracking his brain. It seems impossible that the boys didn’t know about Even, but… Isak never told them. He just assumed Jonas had filled them in on the finer points of the bonding/unbonding saga.

“No, you never said,” Magnus confirms, finally taking a bite of the slice of pizza on his napkin. “You kind of never tell us anything, bro.”

Fuck.

Magnus is right, Isak knows. He hadn’t ever come out to them, beyond his lack of denial when he finally bonded to a boy and they gave him that label. He’s never told Magnus or Mahdi about his own mother, and how he came to be living with Eskild.

Isak spent so long feeling lonely that he’d never thought to try letting the boys in.

It’s easier, now that he has Even, to see the role he played in keeping them at a distance.

“Sorry,” Isak says quietly, and Magnus takes it with his usual lack of ceremony.

“Like, you don’t have to,” Magnus says. “If you want your secrets. But you can, whatever, you know.”

For a long moment Magnus just looks at him, face open and eyes clear. Isak stops himself from flinching at it--at the kindness he sees, the genuine care.

The lump in his throat is embarrassing as fuck, so he clears his throat hastily before gritting out his _thank you._

That said, they sit in silence. Isak’s thoughts, as they always do, drift to Even.

He wonders what Even would think about this side of Magnus. If maybe Even had known he was like this just meeting him at the bonding party. He has a nasty feeling Even would have, because Even doesn’t have the issues Isak does.

Even would never treat his friends like Isak has.

“Tell me something about the weekend,” Isak says abruptly, grasping at straws. “Anything that isn’t soulbonds,” he adds, a necessary afterthought, because he can’t keep thinking about Even and their decision. All roads right now seem to lead back there.

To his credit, Magnus only stares for a moment before replying.

“Oh, dude, I forgot! We went to that Handels party!”

Isak watches his friend’s face light up in animation as he starts in on a ridiculous story, hands flying around as he describes some ‘perfect 10’ dancer chick who had given him her phone number. It doesn’t matter whether Isak believes him or not, Isak tells himself. He should just support his friend and listen.

“She’s no Vilde,” he says, after a while, and Isak doesn’t even roll his eyes. “But fucking hell, she’s gorgeous.”

By the time Mahdi and Jonas finally join them, Isak’s heard all about the flexible My and her blowjob mouth.

Isak misses Even like a limb, but Magnus’s bright grin as Mahdi starts to tease him makes it hurt just a little bit less.

-

Isak’s friends are a bright spot in an otherwise difficult time. He tells Even about his conversation with Magnus, smiling as Even tells him he wants to meet more of his friends, and Isak grits his teeth and grins through echoing the sentiment, as much as he doesn’t want Mikael invading his home again.

Unfortunately, Mikael himself doesn’t seem to get the memo.

Ten days after Even took the blockers, Isak comes home from kebab with the boys to find Mikael and Mutta in the kollektiv. Mutta is on his way out--his eyes widen as he sees Isak coming through the door, but he says nothing, just mutters a quick hello before closing the door.

“Tell me, how does it feel to be free?” Mikael’s voice carries into the kitchen, but the bond is silent. Isak doesn’t hear Even’s low response, but Mikael laughs.

“Are you really going to stay with him?” Mikael says--and at that, Isak squeezes his eyes shut.

The bond flares to life at the surge of anxiety that runs through him, and Even, on the other side, tugs Isak in close, mentally checking him over in worry and confusion, hungrily embracing the bond for the moments that they have it.

 _Are you home?_ Even asks, and Isak bites his lip.

With the bond open, he won’t lie to Even. Not now. Even waits patiently, and Isak hears Mikael’s increasing irritation as Even says nothing to him out loud--ignoring him in favour of listening for Isak’s reply.

 _Yes_ , he says eventually. _I’ll be in my room._ He opens his bedroom door as if to illustrate the point, and is stupidly relieved when Even projects warmth and gratitude right back at him.  
Inside, Isak is torn between not listening and not wanting to block the bond during one of its bright ‘on’ periods.

But Isak is trying to be a better person, so Even’s privacy wins out.

Thankfully, it takes barely ten minutes for the kollektiv’s front door to slam shut, and for Even to slip into the bedroom, a sweet expression on his face.

 _Can we get under the covers?_ He asks, hopeful, and Isak is already moving to let him in.

The bond flickers, but it holds.

-

They have their own ways of dealing with the ever-increasing darkness.

Even turns more and more to movies, pulling Isak in to his side and carding his hands through Isak’s curls like the touch will anchor him.

Isak can’t stop touching him. After that first night Even had said no, they’ve both found it hard to resist, knowing how little time they have left.

When the bond is dark like this, it’s one of the few things that makes Isak feel like any of this is real. Like he’s real, and Even’s real, and this isn’t just another dream that will leave him gasping for air when he wakes.

Tonight is no exception.

Eskild and Linn are both gone, and won’t be back anytime soon, if the eyeliner on Linn’s eyes has anything to say about it. Even’s eyes don’t stray from the movie, but his breath hitches as Isak’s hand creeps up his thigh, fingers tracing the inner seam of his thin sweatpants.

Even spreads his legs a fraction wider and Isak takes it as permission.

****

His hand moves the tiniest increment inwards, fingers brushing minutely closer to Even’s dick. Isak keeps his eyes on the screen, pretending to be focused on the movie, but--Even’s breath gets shallower, his thighs going tense. Even isn’t really watching it, either.

It’s different, not looking at each other.

Isak is going in blind, here, in more ways than one. He can’t see Even, but he also can’t feel what Even feels. In a way, it’s exhilarating, but it’s also really fucking scary. Testing out Even’s reactions as Isak’s fingers finally trace the outline of his cock, the shape obscene in his sweats as he chubs up.

Isak cups it with his palm, just to hear Even’s sharp intake of breath. He moves as slowly as he can, wanting Even to break first--and then, as Isak’s hand makes to trail away, Even says his name in a strangled voice and grabs Isak’s wrist with his own hand.

They turn to look at each other, and Isak loses his mind.

He stands abruptly, pulling Even to his feet and crashing their mouths together as his hands work to undo the buttons on his jeans. He yanks off his tshirt, letting it fall to the ground, and impatiently tugs at Even’s until he does the same, stripping down to his underwear as he gasps kisses into Isak’s mouth.

Isak needs it all.

Pushing Even back onto the sofa, he climbs on top of him, winding his arms around Even’s neck. Fisting his hand in Even’s hair, he pulls Even’s head back to kiss his neck, desperate to feel more again. Even’s grip on his back is tight, fingernails undoubtedly marking little crescent moons into his skin--which is good, Isak likes it, he wants it. Anything that will make the feeling last for longer… except none of this is going to last for long, Isak thinks.

He raises himself up on his knees just long enough for them both to hook down their underwear, pulling their cocks free. Even’s slaps against his belly for just a moment before Isak is pushing down against it, groaning as it slides along his taint, against his balls.  

Another day, with more time, Isak might ask Even to open him up gently, fuck up into him deep and slow until Isak forgets his own name.

Tonight, Isak just wants to feel him go wild. Wants to scream. Remind himself that they fit together and feel it in the morning in every delicious ache.

Without the bond, there’s no way of Even knowing that, but Isak is too hot to feel nervous. Without a bond, he’s going to have to get used to talking.

Should maybe have gotten used to it anyway, he thinks distantly.

“I want it hard,” he says, hands tightening in Even’s hair. He licks his lips, purely for the way Even’s eyes track the movement. “Can we do that?”

“You want it rough?” Even asks, his voice low. His hands migrate down, from Isak’s back to his thighs, straddling his own.

Isak says yes, and Even takes a deep breath.

“Yes,” he echoes, nonsensically as he pushes Isak off, reverses their positions.

Suddenly, Isak is sat on the sofa, and Even is looking up at him. If it were possible, Isak would get harder at the sight of him.

He kneels between Isak’s thighs, barely stopping to let Isak adjust before his strong hands push Isak’s legs further apart. He gives Isak’s leaking cock a considering lick, but--he stops. He reaches for Isak’s hands, and puts them back in his hair.

“I’ll pinch you if it’s too much,” he promises, and then without a second’s pause he leans down and bites at the meat of Isak’s inner thigh, sucking hard enough to bruise.

Isak’s legs turn to jelly.

“Fuck,” he says, because it’s not what he expected, but then Even does it again, bites the other thigh, pulling back to run his tongue over the mark before blowing cold air right over it.

“Oh my god, Even,” Isak groans, but Even doesn’t stop. Determination in his eyes, he goes up and down Isak’s thighs, pulling back every time Isak thinks he’s finally going to suck his cock to make him tremble even more.

By the time Even has finished marking him up, Isak’s thighs are littered with bites, and his legs are boneless from tensing up and releasing it again over and over. His whole body feels electric, nipples hard from Even’s teasing ministrations.

Isak doesn’t even need Even to suck his cock, anymore. He wants to be closer to him--close enough that he pulls Even back up to the sofa, twisting them around awkwardly until Even is sprawled across it bare-ass naked, and Isak can lay his whole body alongside him in search of perfect friction, pre-come slicking the way as he fucks up against Even’s groin.

Even moans, and brings their mouths together to swallow the sound.

Without the bond, Isak has no guidelines, so he follows his instincts. Isak grips Even a fraction too tight, rubbing off against Even’s cock with desperate noises as his tongue slips into Even’s mouth. Even bites Isak’s lip, and Isak moans, and does it back, and eventually he tastes blood on his tongue, feels the sting his cracked lips protesting the treatment, but he doesn’t give a shit.

Even tugs his hair so hard that it almost hurts, and Isak cries out, working his hips faster. The friction is maddeningly good, making pleasure build low in his belly--and he knows, then, that he isn’t going to last. Dirty and frantic and uncoordinated, he’s about to tip over the edge, and it’s big, almost scary how small the universe feels like this, narrowed down to him and Even rutting like animals on the kollektiv sofa.

Desperately, he squeezes Even’s ass tighter, stroking Even’s hole with a dry finger until he feels the give.

His finger is all it takes.

With a vicious snarl of a kiss, Even falls apart between them, covering Isak’s cock in come, and Isak is close, on the crest, right there--

It only takes three frantic pulls of Isak’s dick for him to follow suit, gasping Even’s name into his shoulder as he spills into his hand.

*******

It’s only when he tastes the salt in their kiss that he realizes they’ve both been crying.

\--

Lying there after, boxers pulled back up and evidence wiped away, Isak doesn’t know what to say. He’s never had sex like that before, and he isn’t sure he wants to again... it was a lot.

It’s the closest thing they have, in the darkness, to feeling bonded.

Tears sting at Isak’s eyes to even think it, guilty. He doesn’t want to spend forever feeling like what they chose isn’t enough.

Beside him, Even stares at the ceiling, skin still glistening with sweat. Outside, there is music playing from a neighbouring flat, and the night sky is dark, moon hidden by the clouds from which rain falls, noisy and persistent.

Inside the kollektiv, it is quiet. Just two boys squashed together on a sofa, figuring out where to go from here.

“Isak,” Even says eventually. His voice is low--hoarse as if he’d really had Isak’s dick in his throat. “Do you still love me?”

Isak doesn’t know where the question comes from, but: “Yes,” he says. There’s no point lying, or evading.

Even lets out a deep breath.

“We’re going to be chill,” Even says, like it’s a totally normal segue. “It’s all going to be fine.”

“Yeah.”

But Even turns to him, then, tracing Isak’s abused lips with a finger.

“Isak. Baby.”

Part of Isak shivers at the endearment, and all that implies.

“I love you,” Isak says again, because it seems important to. No matter what, that’s still true. He feels it now just as much as he did before. And he doesn’t expect Even to say it back, or anything, but--

“I love you too.”

Even’s eyes are serious, but Isak can’t quite believe it. Perhaps because nobody has said it to him before-- _Even_ never said it to him before, not before the blockers, and not since. He’d hoped, but...

“You do?” He asks, cursing himself for how small his voice sounds. Even only smiles, brushes Isak’s hair from his face.

“Hey,” he says. “I do. I’m sure.”

Isak can’t help but smile. The romance of the moment has begun to sink in, a little--enough that he can lay the desperation he felt not even an hour ago to rest. Even telling him he loves him feels bigger than anything.

Even telling him he loves him while the bond is dead?

Isak can’t pretend it’s not significant.

“You’re choosing me?” he says, looking Even in the eyes.

_I think I would have chosen you, but I’ll never know for sure._

“I’ll keep on choosing you,” Even says, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

\--

Back in the garden of thorns, Isak and Even fight side by side, but the tower is crumbling before their very eyes.

“Save yourself,” Even shouts, but Isak isn’t listening, hacking away at thick vines of green with a wooden sword. It grows faster than he can slash through it.

“SAVE YOURSELF,” Even repeats, and Isak looks up, sees the dragon overhead. It’s eyes are the colour of Isak’s mamma’s, its face in his father’s scowl.

Isak blinks, and then Even falls, the vines twisting around his legs until they bleed. He hangs his head, panting, and Isak looks back to the dragon again, watching them in curiosity.

“No,” Isak says, as the vines take purchase. “Don’t leave me.”

The vines creep up. To Even’s waist. His chest. His neck.

“I love you,” Even says, and Isak hates that it sounds like a goodbye, Even’s voice cracking as his breaths become more laboured. “I love you, I love you, I--” Isak grasps at the vines with his fingers, but they slip right off. Like his hands aren’t real hands, can’t bleed or hold or fix anything.

“Do something!” Isak screams, and all hell breaks loose.

The dragon breathes its fire, and the vines fall away, ash against the floor. And Isak keeps screaming, and then the garden is engulfed in blue flames, fast and bright. When it dies down, Isak falls to his knees, because all that he sees is Even, lying on the ground with a crown on his head. A rose cupped in his hands.

Even is free of the thorns, but his breathing continues to slow.

“Freedom has a price,” the dragon says.

“Wake up,” Isak shouts. “Wake up!”

\--

Even’s side of the bed is empty.

That in itself isn’t odd--and he leaves a note, which is typical, saying that he’s gone to Mikael’s for some early editing.

The odd thing is that, an hour later, Isak’s phone vibrates with a text message from the asshole himself.

 

 **Mikael OB  
** So Isak  
Thanks for not being a dick

???

You agreed to block the bond

Fuck you

Serious  
Glad you took my advice

Sorry but it’s nothing to do with you

Okay but how is Even doing?

Ask him yourself??

He’s not talking to any of us tho??  
Mutta is throwing a shit fit

??!?

We haven’t heard from him since he  
took the blockers. I came over to  
ask what his deal was the other day but  
he kicked me out  
Isak  
Hello

That can’t be right, Isak thinks. Since their last appointment with the doctor, Even has seen Mikael a whole bunch of times. He’s supposed to be with him right now… but he’s clearly not. Which means that Even isn’t being honest, and Isak is scared to know why.

When Even comes home, Isak asks him about his time with Mikael, and the bond flickers. For a moment, Even’s guilt rings through loud and clear, and then he’s coughing and saying yeah, it was cool, everything was chill--and Isak feels cold, watching Even lie through his teeth. He can’t quite look at Isak as he says it, but without the bond, it’s far harder to call him out on it.

There are some things Isak is too scared to say aloud.

 _Are you slipping?_ Is one of them.

(Even said he loved him, Isak remembers. So what does that mean?)

-

Isak assumed, at some point, that he’d get used to the bond going away.

Now is not that time.

_It’s a dying creature, now. A deer in the woods with its leg picked apart by a cheap bullet, bleeding out slow and lethargic._

_All it can do is walk more and more slowly towards the path, hope that someone will take pity on it._

_Rescue it, or put it out of its misery_.

Isak doesn’t know why Even is thinking about hunting metaphors tonight, but it’s all he has of Even’s mind, so he doesn’t dare question it. It’s the first recognizable thought he’s had through the bond in days--everything else has been like static.

The worst of the side effects seem to have subsided, but that doesn’t make Isak feel better. If anything, it makes him and Even cling to each other harder, knowing that they have little time left. Even oscillates between his mysterious trips to ‘Mikael’s’, and attaching himself to Isak like a barnacle. Isak goes from fear that Even will leave him to absolute rage, that Even doesn’t trust him with whatever this is.

“Why aren’t you talking to your friends? Isak finally blurts out, standing over the sink with his hands in the soapy water. Next to him, Even stills, dropping his tea towel onto the counter with an air of nonchalance.

Even shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal, then looks away.

“Difference of opinion,” he says. “It’ll be fine.”

And Isak takes a deep breath, because he has to ask the question, now. Mikael has texted AGAIN, and he needs to know now, too.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Even huffs, then looks away.

“I’m fine, Isak. It’s not an episode.”

Isak narrows his eyes.

“So why did you say you were meeting them? Where do you keep going?”

“Home,” Even says, gritting his teeth. “To my mamma’s.”

He meets Isak’s eyes, now, so Isak has to accept it as the truth.

“Are you going to move back there?” He asks--but his voice cracks a little in the middle.

In an instant, Even deflates, the fierceness draining away fast.

“No,” he says. “I just needed space. To figure this out.”

He doesn’t need to say _what_ he’s figuring out. Losing the bond weighs heavy on the both of them, Isak knows,

“You don’t have to do it on your own, you know?” He asks, but Even just shrugs again.

“If you could get it back,” Even says, wistful as Isak has ever seen him. “Would you?”

The fucking idiot.

There’s only one answer to that question, and Isak tells him so. The answer should be obvious, shouldn’t it? Isak would give anything to have the bond back, and to know that Even would be okay with it. In another universe, Isak would jump at the chance. That’s just not the reality they live in.

“But we can’t,” Isak says. “Even though that sucks.”

“Okay,” Even says. He moves away from Isak, into the kitchen, pulling out a pan to boil pasta in for dinner.

Like that, it seems, the conversation is over.

-

Even seems better, after that. Smiles more, laughs more.

He still continues to disappear to his parents’, but he tells the truth about it, now. Which feels like a step in the right direction. And--the important _and_ \--he says _I love you_ again _._ Once, when the bond is open, just before they fall asleep. Another time, on the phone, on the way to meet Isak at Nissen. Again and again, in different places and positions, until Isak is starting to believe it.

Isak doesn't know what's changed, but he tries to embrace it, push away his own grief.

He still isn't quite used to it. He's spent his whole life, until he met Even, dreaming about a bond, and now he's given it up--as much as he loves Even, it still seems unfair. Like the universe is punishing him for daring to have what he wanted by making it impossible to keep. Isak tries to keep his sadness from Even, and that's easier without a bond, but sometimes it feels like the elephant in the room, Isak's sacrifice. He knows Even made it, too, but he also knows it was harder for him. That he loved the bond more.

Now, Even seems to be starting to move forward, embracing their new dynamic with a smile, and Isak wants to make it work, too. But he can't stop being sad just yet, not when the wound is so fresh.

Just over two weeks after the blockers, Even swaggers up to Isak outside KB, as he meets him after his shift. The sun is setting over Oslo, a chilly February day, but Isak still refuses to wear gloves, and so Even takes his hand, blowing on his pink fingers with an exasperated look.

“You know, it’s my birthday tomorrow,” he says, once he’s finally satisfied. It’s casual enough that Isak doesn’t register at first. When he does, he turns to glare at Even, annoyed that he’s only just mentioned it.

Even starts walking, tugging Isak along with him even as he protests.

“What? Seriously?”

“I’m gonna be 20,” Even confirms with a smile. “Can you believe it?”

And no, actually. Isak can’t.

“Why didn’t you say so?”

“I’ve been busy!” Even says, and Isak tries not to think about all the time he’s still not spending with his friends, holed up at the kollektiv or his parents’ place. “I completely forgot until Mamma reminded me.”

It’s suspicious. Even looks happier than he has in forever--all of a sudden, he’s acting like things are normal. Like he’s fine with the bond being dead, and everything is good, and he and Isak are just a normal unbonded couple navigating the first stage of their relationship.

There’s something unsettling about it, but Isak can’t put his finger on it.

“I didn’t even get you anything,” Isak realizes, and Even snorts, before turning to him with a gleam in his eyes.

“You don’t need to. You’re the best gift I could have got.”

Isak can’t help the pleased grin that takes over his face, even as he tries to play it off. Whatever Even’s trying, he knows he shouldn’t buy it.

“Oh my god, that’s fucking terrible.”

Of all of the times for the bond to spark open, it does now, enveloping Isak in Even’s teasing mirth at his own ridiculous line.

_What?_

_That was so cheesy!_

_You liked it._

_I did._

Fuck it. Isak drops his suspicions, and allows them their sappiness, if only inside their heads. There’s something about knowing they’re going to lose that that makes him cherish it all the more.

Even stiffens at that thought, and Isak’s stab of guilt doesn’t help matters. He sends an apology down the bond for ruining the mood, but Even shrugs it off, simply licking his lips and bringing the conversation back to life.

“So, will you come tomorrow?” he asks, and for a second Isak’s mind stutters, blank.

“To what?”

“To my birthday,” Even says, patiently. “My parents are doing a thing.”

“Like a boyfriend?” Isak asks--because they haven’t put that word to it yet, but it makes sense. If not bondmate, then boyfriend.

Maybe that will be enough.

Even nods.

“I’d like that,” Isak says, trying to play down the nerves.

Across the bond, Even’s fondness reaches out to him, all sweetness and light.

 _You’ll be fine,_ Even projects, drawing Isak in closer. _Tomorrow is going to be perfect._

\--

They are famous last words.

The next morning, Isak wakes up to nothingness.

The bed beside him is empty, but that’s not the hard part.

The hard part is the silence of Even inside his body, mind, soul--like it’s never been before. The darkness had been one thing, but this is--no. This is like the door has been closed and locked from the other side.

 _The bond is dead_. Isak is sure of it, now, and it hits him square in the chest, grief and resignation because it’s gone, forever, for good. Isak will never again have a soulmate.

“Even?” he calls out, fear spiking through him unbearable in its sharpness.

He throws off the duvet, not even tugging on a t-shirt as he wanders around, desperate to find him--Even isn’t in the bathroom, or the kitchen, and Isak is about to give in to despair when he flings open the front door to find Even in the hallway, hand poised to unlock it.

Even’s eyes are shining, and Isak’s heart feels ready to burst.

“Did it work?” Even asks. Isak has tears in his eyes, but Even is smiling. Isak doesn’t understand why Even, but Even seems... happy.

The bond is finally done, he thinks, so maybe that makes sense. Maybe, deep down, Even is relieved.

_This is what he wanted all along--isn’t it? Not to be bonded. To be free, to choose for himself--_

And then Even closes his eyes, and the floodgates open.

The bond lights up, Even’s joy and love surging down it so enthusiastically that Isak almost stumbles. Every fiber of Isak’s being is filled by it, like being infused with a billion tiny particles of light, and it’s so overwhelming that he could cry out for joy and relief, except--

This can only be a dream.

“What did you do?” He asks, heart in his throat.

This--Isak knows; this isn’t possible, is it?

If this is happening, it means Even has given up his chance of blocking the bond. That he and Even will be bondmates for the rest of their lives--

“I stopped taking the pills,” Even says. And Isak probes the bond for signs of mania, for evidence of a lie, but all he finds is truth. Steadiness. Love.

 _Why?_ Isak wants to know, because they’d made their decision together, when they'd chosen to block the bond. He'd never expected that Even would do anything like this, especially without consulting him.

“I figured out how to close the door,” Even explains, and Isak’s heart skips in his chest.

Fuck.

Even’s pride is warm; Isak greedily chases the feeling, wanting more of it. Isak tugs on it, needing to understand. He sees it, then, clear as a bell--Even practicing on his childhood bed, eyes squeezed shut as he worked with the remnants of the bond, trying to visualize what he needed it to be to shut Isak out. To keep Isak safe, when Even couldn’t protect himself from himself.

Isak sees it, now. In his head, Isak and Even are a movie, and Even is editing as they go. Even has been learned to turn the volume down.

Even must have been planning this for a while. Waiting for the bond to weaken enough for him to block it, but...

“You can't just do that,” Isak says, and Even looks away. “You can’t just change the rules and not fucking tell me.” As the surprise passes, Isak can’t help it. He boils with fear and anger at Even’s stupidity. His recklessness, against all medical advice.

 _I know_ , Even admits. Like not saying it out loud will make it seem justifiable. _But people kept saying there was no coming back, like the bond would never be the same… and then I thought, maybe, that that would be a good thing._

He’s right about that, at least. It’s not the same. Unless he listens carefully, Even’s voice in his head is fainter, like music heard from another room.

 _You would have talked me out of it,_ Even says, and Isak grits his teeth.

“Because it’s fucking dangerous,” he says.

Horror fills Isak, imagining what could have happened. This is unchartered territory, as far as bond science goes. The directions were clear: take a pill, every day for the rest of your life. To block the bond, yes, but also, once the bond was dormant, to keep bond hunger at bay. To protect his mind from the effects of the broken connection.

People don’t just stop taking them. A calculated risk, Isak reminds himself.

“You could be fucking brain damaged,” Isak tells him, tears springing to his eyes. Even could be lying limp on the bathroom floor right now, seizing up, all for the chance to feel Isak inside his dumb head again. His heart squeezes in his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure it would work,” Even says, stepping in closer. His fingers brush Isak’s, and Isak ignores them, because he’s too frustrated to _hold hands_ right now, Even. “I told Mikael about it, but--”

_Fucking Mikael._

Even snorts, and Isak glares at him, remembering that Even can _hear him_ again.

God, Isak can hardly breathe. He can’t believe it.

 _He told me I was an idiot. We kind of haven’t spoken since,_ Even admits now, and Isak shakes his head, too overwhelmed to process it. _Mikael_ is the last fucking straw. Isak can’t believe Even told Mikael instead of him.

“Even,” he says abruptly, slamming the door of the bond shut inside his head. “You should go to your party. I need to think.”

\--

 **Mikael OB  
** You’re ditching him on his birthday now   
I told him not to do it, you know   
Seriously Isak

Fuck you

Isak remembers, when Jonas first bonded with Eva, thinking he’d do anything if he could have that.

When he’d bonded with Even, it had seemed like some sick joke. Somebody up there telling him that he was destined to be lonely. That nobody would ever love him like that, so he should give up on looking.

And then Even had started to change. To accept the bond, a little, and to accept Isak, with it. Isak had begun to hope, then, that they would have a happy ending. Even would find some way to block the bond, and they would live happily ever after, except when Even was having an episode when Isak would sit at his bedside, showering him with love until he felt good again.

But Even couldn’t block the bond, and Even had become hypomanic. And Isak had realized that Even’s illness was no small thing--that maybe Even was right when he said that Isak couldn’t help, wouldn’t be safe. And so they’d decided to block the bond, and do the responsible thing, and it had broken Isak’s heart, but he’d resigned himself to it, a life without a bond, because he loved Even, and it seemed like the only option…

Except it isn’t.

Even loves Isak enough to bond with him--enough to take this crazy risk to his own health. Isak shouldn’t say _crazy_ , he knows. But it’s a scary choice to have made, and he wishes Even hadn’t done it. Even feels fine today, but tomorrow?

What if this makes Even sicker?

What if it makes Even miserable?

He paces around his room, picking up the clothes littering the floor. He throws Even’s t-shirt onto the bed, then picks it up again, breathing deeply into the fabric, in and out and in and out until the panic recedes a little. Until he’s calmer.

Fuck, he can't believe Even did this.

Tentatively, he opens the door of the bond, reaching out for Even.

 _Are you okay_? Even asks, and Isak sits down with a sigh, letting Even probe the tangle of thoughts in his mind. Even’s presence is a soothing balm, now, and Isak lays back, breaths slowly, trying to parse yet another new reality thrown at him.

 _I should have told you_ , Even says, genuinely remorseful. _I’m sorry._

Isak sighs, but Even is broadcasting loud and clear. He knows Even thinks it’s the right thing. Isak can’t pretend he doesn’t want the bond back, too--it’s just that he’s afraid.

 _I am too_ , Even admits. _But I think we can do this together,_ _if you want to try_.

It’s the uncertainty in his mind that does it.

 _If_ he wants to try.

Isak is angry, sure. Isak told Even to go to the party alone, yes. But that doesn’t mean Isak doesn’t want to _try_ anymore, because Isak fucking loves him, and he’ll be damned if he lets Even think otherwise. If  _anyone_ lets him think otherwise.

 **Mikael OB  
** Come on Isak  
Get the fuck here already

Go fuck yourself  
I’m on my way

  


\--

The party is no different to any other Isak has been to. And still, there’s something about walking through the door that feels like coming home. The smiles, the welcome--the way Even looks at him from across the room in awe, like Isak’s presence alone explains the happy thud of his heart.

Tentatively, Isak smiles back.

As Isak sips at his coke and listens to Even’s aunt tell stories about his childhood, Even approaches his side. When Even laughs along at the story, Isak glances at him in profile, lit by the setting sun through the windows, and can’t help the rush of love and awe that shivers through him.

Even is the most beautiful boy he has ever seen.

 _I’m sorry_ , Even nudges back. His clammy hand squeezes Isak’s, and Isak nudges him through the bond, because they'll talk about that later.

For now, he just wants to be here. To see the smile on Even's face as Isak meets his family, how proud he seems to be of him.

"This is my bondmate, Isak," Even says, showing him off to his grandmother.

"This is my boyfriend, Isak," he says to his father, a wide grin on his face.

"This is Isak," he says to his Mamma, like everything can be contained in those two syllables.

Even shows him around until Isak's face hurts from smiling. Until the whole room knows what they are to each other, and he leads Even away by the hand, searching for a reprieve from the well-meaning questions.

“So, stuck with Even for good,” Elias jokes, when they finally join the boys in the kitchen. "Welcome to the family, man."

“Didn’t escape while you could?” Adam chimes in, a wide grin splitting his face. Even pretends to be hurt, but Isak can only smile at him.

“Nah,” Isak says, and Even lights up at it, wrapping his arms around Isak’s shoulders and peppering his face with kisses.

Mikael gives him a wary smile, reaching out a hand for Isak to shake.

"Don't be a dick," he says, ignoring Even's annoyed flick to his ear. "I mean it."

Isak still doesn't like Mikael, but he gets it. He shakes his hand gingerly, pulling back sooner than is strictly polite.

"I won't," he says, and across the bond Even tries to hide his amusement.

 _Are you ready to talk?_ Even asks, and Isak turns in his arms.

“Let’s go to your room,” he says.

\--

Upstairs, Even hovers by his old desk, until Isak leads him over to the wide windowsill. They sit across from each other, legs just barely touching. Isak feels like he should say something first, but Even doesn’t wait--he launches into it right away, throwing the truth out in defiance like he’s afraid Isak will leave again.

“The bond will never be like it was,” Even says. He takes a deep breath. “But it’s weak enough for me to block it now, and if something happens, I think you’ll be safer.”

"I'm not worried about me," Isak says. "Don't you get it? I'm worried about _you_."

Even frowns. "I'm sorry," he says, now.  _I hate people worrying about me._

And it makes Isak sad, too, but he's not here to fight about it. He's not here to be unhappy, or to make Even feel guilty.

“It’s done now,” Isak says. He doesn’t say it’s _okay_ , but it’s done.

Fuck, Isak loves him. For the second, the bond goes quiet--a flicker of darkness that Isak supposes he’ll have to get used to--but then Even leans over and kisses him, tentative and soft. It flares back to life in an instant, and Isak embraces it as he pulls Even closer.

He pours everything into the kiss. His love, his fear, his promises.

“I don’t know what happens now,” Even admits, settling his hands on Isak’s hips. “What the side effects are, or what the bond will be like, but this is what I want. To be bonded to you. And I thought you wanted it too.”

“I do,” Isak says. “You know I do.”

Isak presses a tender kiss to Even’s mouth. If he closes his eyes and tries, he can feel it--the spark of it that runs through Even, through to his toes. The unbearable sweetness of Even’s affection, an endless litany of _angel baby sweetheart_ and all of the names he has for Isak inside his head.

And Isak loves him.

Isak takes Even’s hands in his, and he keeps kissing him.

 _I love you_ , Even projects, the truth of it settling under Isak’s skin. _I choose you_.

 _I choose you_ , Isak echoes, because he does. He has. And that, he realizes now, is just as important as anything else. That Even loves him by choice, and that Isak loves him back the same way. Isak doesn’t know what will happen next, but he has Even’s voice back inside his head, his soul back beside his soul, and he can’t bring himself to be sad about it. They love each other, and they've chosen each other, and they can unchoose each other one day, if they want--but they'll always have this. Whatever they face, they will never be alone again.

Isak kisses Even, and he lets his happiness fill the room, lips to lips and body to body and mind entwined with Even’s beautiful mind.

For now, the birthday celebrations are forgotten, because Even is his bondmate and they have a forever’s worth of birthdays now, perfect and otherwise. They have forever to figure out the hard stuff.

Fragile though it may be, the bond still sings.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [towonderland72](http://towonderland72.tumblr.com). :)


End file.
